The Guardian
by jjgoodhope
Summary: It would appear that I live under a rock, until the Blacklist, I had never heard of "fan fiction". Please be gentle -I've never written anything before, but this little daydream just has to be set free. Thanks to those who have created such wonderful music videos, what inspiratoin! Oh, I almost forgot – I guess a disclaimer goes here – I don't own the Blacklist
1. Chapter 1

Several months out...

Bangladesh

"Raymond", Dembe's voice soft, melodic as he interrupted Red dinning in his hotel suite after the completion of his business meeting. "Your private rooms are being accessed."

Red arched his eyebrows, curious that such a statement from his bodyguard would illicit such a lack of concern. Finished with his dinner, Red rose from the table and poured a scotch.

Dembe handed him the tablet. The computer security program was open on the screen. The program monitored several key locations around the world that were always of interest to Red. He nodded both his thanks and his dismissal to his bodyguard. Stationing himself on the sofa, he crossed a leg and propped the tablet on his calf. Tapping the LED screen of the tablet he expanded the video and took a deep swallow of his drink.

He immediately understood why Dembe had not been alarmed.

Lizzie.

His Lizzie. Standing in the doorway of his suite of rooms at the villa. Hair tasseled, blue eyes bright, with a look of determination that Red hadn't seen in ages. The light from the hallway illuminated her nightgown, displaying the outline of her body. The gown was long, white and sheer, made of the finest silk. Satin ribbons tied in girlish bows at each shoulder. The neckline straight, beginning just below the swell of breasts, the bodice tucked into tiny pleats as the fabric grazed the tops of her bare feet. She appeared ethereal, ghost like.

For several minutes she stood still, as if she were afraid of what monster might be waiting in the room, lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce should she actually be brave enough to enter. Red couldn't help but be intrigued as to what would have prompted her appearance in his bedroom, in the middle of what would be her night.

A moment's tinge of guilt at his voyeurism was quickly dismissed. After all, it was his room, wasn't it? It's not as if he had invaded the sanctity of her bedroom. Not that he didn't have the capability of monitoring her every movement. He was just to cognent of the fact that it would be such a deplorable violation of her privacy.

Her hand found the light switch and the rooms were cast in a soft glow. She entered his private study, her eyes taking in the museum quality paintings that hung on the walls. The deep rich leather of the sofa and chair, the desk, clear of any papers or computer, just a beautifully lit tiffany lamp. The rich jeweled colors of the glass cascading into the corner.

His bedroom was adjacent and she moved towards it, footsteps silent on the plush carpet. The bedroom decor was a continuation of the study. Dramatic, richly decorated with dark furniture and burgundy accents. Brocade drapes were pulled opened, allowing the moonlight to pool through the panes of the French door that opened out to a balcony.

Red switched cameras as she moved into his dressing room, his eyes sharply assessing her face, looking for some clue that wouldn't be revealed, wondering if perhaps she was sleep walking. He dismissed the idea, she looked uncertain yet purposeful. She was seeking something. Slowly she turned, taking in the contents of the room.

One wall held shirts, vests, trousers and suit coats, hanging in rows. Neat, orderly and immaculate. The wall opposite, shelves with shoes and his collection of fedoras, belts and ties. Drawers that held his personal wear. A door way led to his bathroom, large and spacious. But it was the wall of cherry cabinetry that she stopped in front of. She waited for what felt like a lifetime to Red until she finally pulled a set of the doors open.

The cabinet inside was lined with shelves. Velvet trays held his personal jewelry, watches, and cufflinks. Half a dozen small, cut glass decanters lined up in a row. A small ornate frame held a picture of an indulgent Red looking down at Lizzie who was smiling up at him. The picture represented everything that he had been striving so hard to accomplish for so long. She removed the picture from the shelf and stared at it for a long moment. Forehead creased into a frown, she returned the picture, pausing to rub her temple.

Red grew more curious as she didn't move away from the mundane contents of the cabinet. Instead she selected one of the decanters, removing the stopper and inhaling. She continued to work her way through the different vials. Selecting, smelling then returning it in the exact order she had taken it until she reached the last one.

She brought the decanter to her face and closed her eyes, nostrils flaring as she breathed its aroma in. "Ce soir, nous vivons" Tonight we live. It was Reds' personal favorite, a custom blend, as they all were, but the cologne he wore most frequently. A mixture of evergreen and citrus. Pausing for long seconds, she inhaled again as if to be certain.

Fingertips were trembling as she placed them on top of the vial and moistened them with the cologne. Eyes still closed, she tilted her head back, exposing the length of her neck and placed her fingertip behind her ear. Slowly, she trailed her hand past the lobe of her ear, down the smooth skin of her neck, touching the pulse that Red could see beating in her throat, stopping only when she reached the crevice between her breasts.

Reds breath exhaled in a sharp hiss. Where he would not allow his mind to betray him, his body quickly did. Whatever he had been expecting when he first saw Lizzie in the doorway, it hadn't been this.

He forgot everything else.

Forgot that she was still lost to him.

Forgot that she might never remember her past.

Forgot for just moment how vulnerable she still was.

Watching her, as she placed HIS scent on her skin, was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed in his life.

Like the ghost of the woman she once was, she slipped away.

Red sat on the sofa as the last remnants of daylight were chased away and replayed the video. Again. And again. And again.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow - thank you for all the great reviews and support, what encouragement for someone who is new to this! JFR - I'm still giggling! Well here goes Chapter 2...hope you enjoy!

Atlantic Ocean

Present day

Traveling could be such a bore, even if one was fortunate enough to do it in their own private jet. But 12 hour flights were just that - 12 hours - even with all the amenities that his wealth afforded him.

He was tired, a feeling he detested, which in turn made him irritable. Right now, the only thing he wanted was for the plane to land and be back in D.C. Today he felt every one of his fifty-three years. His focus on age was a condition that was relatively new to him and one that he didn't care for. His mood darkened more at the brief acknowledgement that he was growing older. Certainly not the picture he wanted to present to Lizzie. But, there were times, like now, when he wondered if he had completely lost his mind when it came to Lizzie.

"The season of his discontent." he couldn't help but think with disgust at his inner ramblings.

He waited inside the private airport lounge for Dembe to bring the car around as his thoughts continued to drift around Agent Keen. He hadn't seen her in almost two weeks and spoken to her just once, a brief, unsatisfactory phone conversation a few days ago. "When will you be back?" She had whispered into the phone and he knew immediately that her husband had been near by. "Soon." was all he had said before abruptly hanging up. That was probably at about the same time his mood turned so foul.

His business had taken him to China, then Singapore and back again to China as he negotiated a "treaty" between two warring families over drug routes. It was a service he had provided for other clients in the past and one that he normally enjoyed performing. It pleased him to know that there were still a few people left in the world he lived in that were intelligent enough to recognize that at times, negotiations could actually be a solution. Certainly not quite as messy as a feudal bloodbath war that some preferred.

His ego easily supported the knowledge that one of his greatest strengths was his skill as a strategist. His ability to identify a problem, decide on the solution and map the steps, from start to finish that were required to achieve the final objective. He planned for the unexpected and in his line of business everything was unexpected. It was how he had lived and it was how he had survived. Unfortunately, with Lizzie, his skills had not proven to be as fruitful as he would have liked. Plan A had not generated the results he had expected, but it did appear as if he may achieve a modicum of success with plan B.

It had taken the last few months of concentrated effort on his part to regain Lizzies' trust. She had been furious with him after the FBI had released Tom, barely speaking to him, her eyes filled with contempt. He had almost thought at the time that recovery may not have been possible.

But then, Sam's death. Certainly he had never gone to see him with the intention of ending his life. He had loved Sam the way men who have fought side by side and trusted their lives to each other, loved. Fulfilling Sams last request had been difficult. But Sam had insisted that it was time and his reminder to Red of the secret they shared, guaranteed him that Red would complete the unspoken request.

Unfortunately it had all been too much for Lizzie to absorb. A difficult career just starting. The Stewmakers kidnapping and her all too close call with death. Wujang and of course, the ongoing situation with Tom Keen. His expression turned dark and deadly, a predator in gentleman's clothing. He really should have just eliminated Tom Keen when he had the opportunity. Several times since, he had contemplated doing just that, but good sense reared its head. Tom Keen's demise at this point, no matter how carefully done, would generate suspicion and quite naturally that suspicion would fall back on him and that in turn would alienate Lizzie and their relationship permanently. So Tom Keen continued to live, but strictly on borrowed time.

He closed his eyes in regret as he thought of Lizzie. Too many violent and upsetting events had occurred to quickly and he recognized that she had simply reached her saturation point. She had become….fragile, for want of a better word. Red recognized the human weakness in her. It alarmed him as much as if he had been told that she was gravely ill. He knew that he had to step back from her emotionally and allow her time to heal. So he retreated, strategized and then began to implement Plan B.

He listened to her stories of Sam.

He stopped tormenting her with his sly innuendos' about Tom.

He was caring, sympathetic and most of all non-threatening.

They continued to work together and had eliminated two more from his list. Minor players that he could have just as effectively handled without her, but he had wanted to keep her close and the risk to her was minimal. The cases had served to build her confidence back up as he knew they would and he watched as she became stronger with each passing week. And as she became stronger, the threads that he had gently bound her with slowly became tighter, pulling her closer to him. Even though he was often an inpatient man, with her, well with her he seemed to have an endless supply of the virtue. As he had told Grey, he was into this for the long plan.

The change in their relationship was of course gradual. A protective hand on the small of her back as they crossed a busy street. The touch of fingers on her shoulder as he held a door open for her, the casual brushing of arms as they read side by side from a file. He made certain that he was always discreet in touching her. The contact brief, like a soft breeze, gone before she had time to react or object or pull away. Each contact was a personal victory for him, a step closer to achieving his objective of winning her trust. Eventually, as he knew she would, she no longer consciously recognized the touching, accepting it to be as natural as her breathing.

Recently he had started to accidentally bump into her after the work day had ended or on the weekends. Her favorite coffee shop or at the park, at times he had even arranged it so that she found him sitting on what he now termed "their bench", the one overlooking the Potomac. Lately, after those accidental meetings, he would suggest a bite to eat. Hot dogs shared from a street vendor, the sandwich shop a few blocks away. Certainly not the type of meals that he would prefer to share with her, but he had never pretended he wasn't a greedy man. He wanted to show her the world, re-visit all the exotic places that he had spent the last twenty years traveling to, but this time, he wanted to see it through her eyes. But that wasn't a part of Plan B even if it was a part of his own personal fantasies.

He kept their conversations light. They spoke of music, literature. She had an impressive grasp on the intricacies of politics. He offered her the use of Fredrick's library and before he had last left, she had accepted his casual offer to borrow a few pieces of his work. Following him home from a long day at the post office and leaving with a stack of manuscripts and a smile. He would never forget that smile.

He had started to surprise her with little gifts from the business trips he went on. The type of nonsensical tokens that tourists returned home with. Easy, again nonthreatening. More recently the little gifts had become a tad more intimate, expensive. A hand stitched bag from Italy made of the softest leather, a first edition he had found in London and on this last trip, he simply hadn't be able to resist, a beautiful antique hair comb. The type woman used to hold their hair in an elegant chignon from day's long forgotten. He hoped Lizzies skills weren't able to distinguish gemstones from paste. The baroque pearls and rubies that studded the comb were magnificent. He may have gotten carried away with this last trinket or maybe he just wanted to push the envelope a little. Regardless, his plan was working. Trust. Lizzie was trusting him again. Her anger had slowly dissipated and a tenuous bond, for want of a better word, was starting to develop.

As tired as he was, he decided a stop at the post office was in order. Perhaps he could cajole her into dinner and he could salvage something from the long day. Red gave the brief instruction to Dembe.

As fate would have it and on par as the day had been progressing, she wasn't in.

Ressler, sarcasm tingeing his voice, inquired if Red was ready to start another case. Really, the man did continue to grate on his last nerve. Ignoring him, Red turned and exited the office without acknowledging him, leaving the man silently fuming he was certain. Agent Meera Malik following him,

"I'll walk out with you, it's been a long day." Her voice polite, as she put her coat on to ward off winters chill.

He glanced appraising at her as they entered the hallway. Another time, another place and he really could have found her of great interest. She was strong, intelligent, always quick to grasp the complexities of the Blacklisters they had taken down, not to mention attractive - all qualities that appealed to him. But those times were past, he was already having enough issues with one woman, he wasn't foolish enough or young enough, God there was that word again - he cringed, to think he could handle two woman.

" I have a proposition for you Reddington", she said conversely as they walked towards the elevator.

He arched a quizzical eyebrow, remaining silent.

"It occurred to me that I could spend the next few weeks tracking down dead end leads, chasing false starts, banging my head against a wall, or I could simply see if you were interested in a little trade." Merra stated matter of factually.

"I'm listening." He replied more out of courtesy than any other reason. She was probably the only person on the team that treated Lizzie as an equal and that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Hanns Schumacher, do you know him?"

"Art dealer in antiquities. Munich. For the most part he runs a legitimate business, which helps to keep him off the radar. I have heard though, that if one is interested in the truly amazing artifacts, the pieces that would be considered national treasures, then he is your man. I personally have not dealt with him." Red said, the boredom clear in his voice.

She nodded, "My sources tell me that he recently acquired a rather priceless piece that was stolen during WW II."

"and that means what to me, Agent Malik?" Red asked, losing interest in the conversation.

"I'd like to know who his buyer is." She boldly said.

He laughed in amazement, one of his hearty chuckles that started deep in his chest and vibrated up his throat. "Let me see if I have this straight. You're asking me to go out on a limb, jeopardize my position and my informants to get you, the CIA, information?" Red glanced at her admiringly, really the woman was quite attractive with her hair pulled primly back in a very unattractive bun.

She tipped her head up and looked into his eyes, as they waited for the elevator doors to open."Well I wouldn't expect you to do it without some form of payment." her tone soft, but the words confident. Meera couldn't help but wonder for the umpteenth time, what the connection was between Agent Keen and Reddington. It was an issue that drew less and less interest from the rest of the team, but not for her. Ressler and Cooper were like children, all bright lights and immediate gratification. They had become pawns in whatever game Reddington was playing, seeing only the glory that they perceived to be theirs that came with the capture of each Blacklister. Men could be so fickle, she thought with disdain.

"What information could you possibly have that would be of interest to me?" His voice betraying none of the alert that his senses suddenly told him to pay attention to.

"It recently came to my attention, that a certain agent has requested full footage of the forty-eight hours before and after the incident at Angel Square." Agent Merlik took great pleasure in dropping her little bomb shell.

Red remained silent, but inside his pulse jumped. Finally, Lizzie was starting to put the puzzle pieces together. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she started to rally and question what was so painfully obvious.

"and…" she paused for effect.

"There's more? Aren't you a wealth of information today." Red drawled.

"Yes I am" she replied smugly, as the elevator started its decent. "Digital tracking shows that same agent has updated all her beneficiary, contact and POA information in their HR files."

This time he didn't even bother to try and hide the pleased smirk. Malik did deserve a little reward for sharing…and if she needed some bit of common information that any decent criminal already knew about, well he was more than happy to oblige her.

"Dembe will be in touch with you later today with the information you're looking for." Red said as they exited the elevator and walked outside. He watched her casually stroll down the alley, green eyes that had narrowed with satisfaction at her words, became thoughtful. Agent Malik was playing a much bigger game than what she was letting on, he would do well to keep a closer eye on her.

Dembe opened the car door. "Grey called, you have a guest. Agent Keen is waiting for you at the house."

Red stretched out in the back seat, a smug smile on his face, his irritation from earlier disappearing like fog in the sunlight. Well, it appeared he had been wrong after all, the day was turning out to be better than expected.

Red entered the house alone, Dembe and Grey both discreetly removing themselves. He hung up his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, tilting his head in the direction of the library, listening. Soft music was playing, the notes of a piano floating in the air. Red poured a drink, recognizing the melody, "Hallelujah". Lizzie must have been rummaging through records. He paused for a moment, then realized that it wasn't the record player, but the baby grand piano that Fredrick used to stack his manuscripts on.

He hadn't known about this talent. He thought he had known everything there was about her. Certainly he knew she had taken piano lessons, dance, all the things that little girls did growing up, but he had never been told that she had this amazing gift. He leaned on the door jam of the library letting the music roll over him, straining to hear as she whispered the lyrics to the song,

"I've heard there was a secret chord  
that David played, and it pleased the Lord  
But you don't really care for music, do you?  
It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth  
the minor fall, the major lift  
The baffled king composing Hallelujah  
Halleluiah, Halleluiah  
Halleluiah, Halleluiah"

She stopped singing, but her hands continued on with the melody and he watched as her eyes closed, her face a reflection of thought Her fingers moving flawlessly over the ivory keys.

She started singing again, but now her voice was stronger, certain.

"Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you  
It's not a cry you can hear at night  
It's not somebody who has seen the light  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
Hallelujah, Hallelujah"

For a few brief minutes her music led him into a different world and he reveled in the beauty of it. It jarred him when she abruptly stopped and his conscious returned.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind", her face turning red with embarrassment when she saw him standing in the doorway.

"Don't stop", his voice like gravel, deep and heavy and yes, aroused.

She shook her head, "I don't play for anyone". She looked away, anywhere except at him. She hesitated, "Music has always been too… personal…to share." Her fingers stroked the ivory keys, "it's been awhile, I couldn't help myself", she trailed off.

He understood completely her unwillingness to expose what amounted to be the inside of her soul. To lay yourself bare, open to scorn or rejection, even worse - ridicule. He wouldn't press her, someday she would play for him.

She focused on the stack of manuscripts piled on top of the piano. Mindlessly the fingers of her right hand picked at the keys.

"I hope you don't mind my stopping in uninvited." She finally said, breaking the silence that wasn't uncomfortable. They both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.

"You're always welcome, you don't need an invitation." Red paused, waiting for her to continue.

Her fingers continued to absently touch the keys. Red watched her struggle with whatever it was she wanted to tell him, but he remained silent. Whatever admission she wanted to make to him, it needed to be of her doing. A test of her trust, perhaps.

"I want you to know that I'm really sorry for all the terrible things I've said to you. You were right about Tom. I… a…watched several days of footage from Angel Square. They met several times that weekend ." Her voice became thick as her throat tightened.

Red mistook it for hurt, gently saying "I'm sorry this has caused you pain". But he certainly wasn't sorry that she had finally come to see what Tom was.

"No, I don't think I'm hurt. I'm angry. Angry with him for whatever game he is using me for. Angry with myself for being so blind. Angry for not listening to you in the beginning. You knew everything and yet you continued to let me take my frustration out on you."

Red poured her a glass of Fredrick's moonshine and placed it on the piano, sitting down he joined her on the piano bench, facing the opposite way. Shoulders brushing, hips touching. The heat of their bodies mixing.

"I did something silly today," she gave him a quick, uncertain smile. His face so close to her that she could feel his breath on her skin. Smelled the scent that was so uniquely him.

He waited expectantly, quiet.

"I, ah, changed all my contact information at work." Embarrassed, her face flushed even more. "I just didn't want to be connected to him in any way."

"A perfectly natural reaction," his voice even, belying none of the satisfaction he felt.

"I put your name down, I'll change it." The words rushed out of her in a tumble. Good lord, what he must be thinking of her.

"No!" The word sharp, harsher than he had intended. He took a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone. "Don't. It's fine Lizzie." Red stood abruptly and placed his hand on her shoulder. He bent down and gently kissed the top of her head. "Leave it". His tone making it clear that the discussion was over.

She reached up and removed his hand from her shoulder and his stomach twisted into a tight knot from her rejection. He had thought they had progressed further than this. Then she brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it softly and Red closed his eyes to hide the overwhelming rush of relief he felt.

"Thank you, I don't have anyone." She admitted quietly, resting her head against his arm.

He pulled her up from the bench and splayed his fingers through her hair, palms cupping both her cheeks. Blue eyes, uncertain, met green eyes, hard and determined.

"Say it Lizzie." he demanded, gentleness, compassion gone and in its place an urgency that he refused to deny any longer.

Immediately she understood the command. Understood how much he needed her to say the words. Understood finally, Reds intent over these past months.

"I have you". She whispered, trailing her hand down the side of his face. Feeling the evening stubble on his check, brushing away the trace of moisture from the corner of his eye.

When he brought his mouth down to her lips, his heart skipped a beat. The kiss wasn't soft, it didn't ask for permission. It was hard, the grip of his hands tight on her face. His tongue forced entrance and he tasted her. He kissed her as if it were their first kiss and it was. He kissed her as if it were their last, which he was afraid it might be.

Her thoughts spun wildly, a kaleidoscope of colors whirled behind her closed eyelids. It was too much! He was too much! Tom's betrayal – she could move past that, but this? This was just to much. Red was larger than life. She didn't doubt for one moment that he would consume her, own her, body and soul. There would be nothing left of her. And then she was kissing him back with a fervor that matched his. When they finally broke apart she buried her face in his shoulders and breathed the scent of him in, her body trembling with nerves and passion. He smelled of Christmas and freshly peeled oranges.

His eyes closed in pained relief, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

With her words, he realized he was done. Done with the Grand Plans, the strategizing, Done with analyzing her every word and move.

His arms held her tightly, fingers catching in her hair, running down her back. Savoring this unexpected gift from a some benevolent Deity who had decided to smile down at him for the first time in his life. With one final kiss that shattered her soul he pulled away.

"Lizzie, before this goes any further you have a decision to make."

Thanks to the wonderfully creative people who have shared their talent and time in creating Blacklist music videos, they are works of art! This particular chapter was inspired by the song "Hallelujah" written by Leonard Cohn sung by James Buckley and the beautiful video created by hannibalsavvy - post/66617036487/red-liz-the-blacklist-hallelujah


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for reading my story and all the lovely reviews, follows, favorites and encouragement. It really overwhelms me to think that someone is enjoying my daydream along with me!

Chapter 3

"Your coming back here tonight Lizzie". Not a question, but a statement, Red told her when she joined him for breakfast the next morning.

The previous evening Red had convinced Lizzie to stay the night. There were plenty of rooms and he wasn't about to give her the opportunity of over thinking or second guessing what had transpired between them. He meant when he told her that he would not pressure her regarding the decision she had to make, however that didn't mean that there were not more subtle ways of influencing her. Keeping her in close proximity was one of them and he had no intention of losing any of the valuable ground that he had so unexpectedly gained.

"Yes." She agreed and Red relaxed slightly. "I'm going to try to have an early day. I need to go to the house and get a few of my things and my car and then I'll be over", she continued. He nodded in agreement, his face revealing none of the pleasure he felt.

Red caught himself focusing on an errant crumb clinging to her mouth. He debated on kissing it away but finally settled for brushing if off with his thumb, watching with satisfaction when her pupils dilated. He was amazed that this passion, this obsession with her that had been building for years was finally being rewarded with something as simple as a shared breakfast.

It was important, more than important, it was crucial that Lizzie made her decision freely. He had made his position clear to her last night, recalling their conversation. They could continue on as they were, eliminating Blacklisters, working together and in the end, when finished she would know the answers of her childhood.

Or they could leave.

Concierge of Crime Raymond Reddington and Special Agent Elizabeth Keen would cease to exist. They could become or do anything she chose. Climb the highest mountain, sail the seven seas. Grow grapes, make wine, make love, make a new life. She would never want for anything. She would never doubt his devotion to her. That much he promised her.

But he was adamant, if she chose to leave, she would never find the answers to her past. She had tried pressing him for more, insisting that she had a right to know what he withheld, but he wouldn't be swayed, no matter how justified her argument was.

"Once our relationship is consummated Lizzie, your life as you know it will be over. The career you worked so hard for will be finished. Doubt and speculation will follow you where ever you go. You will be alienated from everyone who ever knew you. And while there is nothing that I would not do for you, I will not watch you suffer under the speculation and repercussions that will occur if we become involved under the prying eyes of the FBI. It's one or the other, Sweetheart." What he couldn't say was that if she knew the truth of her past, she would never leave with him.

"Don't you think that I should be able to make this choice knowing the truth. A truth you know. A truth that your withholding from me?" Her voice rising with frustration and anger.

"No", His mouth drawn into a tight line making it perfectly clear that he was unwilling to compromise on this issue. His eyes became gentle and he gave her a faint smile. "I want you to know Lizzie, that whatever you decide, whatever you choose, I will always be there for you."

He led her to a guest room, leaving her with a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I believe Grey has found something for you to wear for the night, goodnight Lizzie. I'll see you in the morning".

Lizzie sat on the edge of the bed thinking of Red's words and the decision he had asked her to make. She knew he was right, she only had two choices. Run away with a criminal or forever be tormented by what might have been. Finally she curled up on the bed and closed her eyes,

xxx

Their breakfast finished he stood with her, helped her slip on her coat. She waited patiently as he adjusted the wool collar, flipping it up to protect her neck from the wind that was picking up strength outside and the snow flurries that were starting to fall. It was such a loving gesture, much like a parent with a child, except the look in his eye was anything but paternal.

"Wait here". He told her, returning a few minutes later with a red scarf of the softest cashmere and wrapping it around her neck. "I wouldn't want you to get a chill". His words dry.

She chuckled and brushed her hand along the side of his face before joining Dembe who was standing in the doorway waiting to drive her. "I'll see you tonight," She told him, giving him a brief uncertain smile before she was gone.

xxxxx

Red glanced again at the grandfathers clock, his fourth time in the last hour. Five-thirty. So much for an early day, he thought exasperated, though he, better than most understood how her day could always turn on a dime. The cell phone that he had confiscated from Dembe earlier, chirped and chimed an a annoying tune. Lizzie, finally! He reached for it quickly, his eyes lighting in anticipation.

And then, in that moment, the one that lives between two seconds, his world fell apart.

It started with the trembling of his hands. The shaking moved up his arms and into his neck meeting its twin that had started to travel up his legs and torso. Next was the wave of heat that flushed his body, turning his skin as red as his name. Then the fear. Pure, unadulterated fear, overtook everything else and swallowed him whole.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. His vision became blurred as he felt the world begin to sway and buckle. His breathing forgotten as he tried to assimilate Coopers words through the phone.

Blood pumped. He could hear it, feel it….pumping through him. Pulsating. Thump, thump, thump. The sound of his heart pounding and pushing the blood into his head.

He wasn't aware of rising from the leather chair in which he had been seated. He didn't hear the roar of anger that filled the room. Like a volcano erupting, he placed his hands beneath the edges of the heavy cherry desk. With a strength that was kept deceptively hidden beneath his perfectly tailored shirts and custom made suits, he overturned the heavy piece of furniture. A priceless porcelain vase shattered from the impact, the lamp crashed and the papers drifted delicately to the floor like autumn leaves.

A sudden urge to kill overwhelmed him. People will die for this, every single person involved would die!

Dembe entered the room, gun drawn at the first sound of noise from the study. Grey just a few steps behind him. Both men took in the scene, trying to fathom what event had occurred that would elicit a reaction like this.

There was only thing that could cause this, Grey thought. Elizabeth Keen. Whatever had happened, it was serious. The woman had been nothing but a thorn in his side since the day Red had assigned him the task of monitoring her life. He would have rather walked the Sahara in search of water than attend one more terrible school play or science fair. But that being said, Greys' loyalty to her was absolute and he was truly alarmed that something terrible could have happened to her. Red - once his Commander in the military and now his employer and friend – would never recover.

"There's been an explosion. Agent Keens Jeep, find out everything." The words were choked out of a throat that felt as though if were being crushed by a steel boot.

Dembe paused, not because he didn't realize the urgency, but he was hesitant to leave him in this condition.

"Now!" Red ordered, his voice rough.

Dembe nodded and exchanged a brief look with Grey before leaving the room.

Grey poured a tumbler of scotch from the side table. Discreetly he looked at Red from the corner of his eye and debated on the wisdom of giving it to him. The drink may calm him, but on the other hand, if he were having a stroke, the alcohol may just be a bad idea. Sighing, he crossed the room and handed him the glass.

Red swallowed it in one gulp. The liquor rolled down his throat and into his belly. Not nearly strong enough to quench the rage or the fear, the God awful fear that still rushed through him. He hurled the heavy tumbler across the room, deliberately striking the large, gilded framed antique mirror that hung on the wall. The center of the mirror popped and then slowly, like a spiders web, long cracks began to run from the center of the glass to the edges. A brief feeling of satisfaction flowed through him as the shards began to drop and splinter into a thousand pieces, much like his life.

xxx

He waited in the back seat of the Mercedes. Silent, oblivious to his surroundings. His mind focused, already he was identifying and reaching out to the various resources that he always had close at hand. Some worked for him, some were criminals and some like Manuel and Marquetta Jorge, were people that owed him a debt.

Manuel and his wife were both physicians in their native Columbia, known for their tireless devotion to improve the medical conditions in their country and their endless search for resources to fund their mission. Red had arranged for Manuel, a surgeon, to relocate to DC's largest hospital as visiting Doctor shortly before he turned himself in to the FBI. The chances that he would need to call on him at some point during his stay had been strong and once again Red had been correct. He just never thought the need would have been for Lizzie.

Red had other people planted throughout the East coast. Some knew him by name, most knew him by one of his many aliases, but they all had one thing in common, they were people that owed him. Red had discovered early on in his career that by far, the most successful way of ensuring someone's loyalty wasn't with money or threats of violence, but by having them owe a debt that could never be repaid.

Like Luli.

He glanced at the woman sitting quietly next to him, having joined him in the car not long after he had arrived at the hospital.

Red stumbled on Luli in Madrid twelve years ago. Somewhat young and naive she had gotten herself caught up with a potential client of his. Red had been asked to broker an arms deal for the man. After a particularly boring dinner at his host's home, where he had been forced to sit through the man's offensive table manners, he offered Red an invitation to join him and his companion for an evenings entertainment.

Red had already decided he had seen enough. He didn't like the man. Had no intention what so ever of doing business with him. The lines of coke snorted only confirmed Red's suspicions that his host was nothing more than a junkie, be it a wealthy one. He was obviously unbalanced with the wild eyes of someone who had done serious drugs far too long.

Planning to extradite himself from the situation, he found himself pausing, somewhat curious as to what his host was offering. A threesome? He was far too fastidious for that, but none the less, still curious.

"Come, let's meet my friend. She has been patiently waiting for me all this time". His host leered. They strolled down an opulent hall and he opened the door.

"Meet my lovely Luli"

What met Red's eyes turned his stomach. Luli, naked, hanging from the ceiling, legs bound, back bleeding from the abuse that had already been raged on her. She looked to be eitherf unconscious or half dead, Red wasn't certain which, her head hanging limply to the side. She stirred and opened her eyes and the look on her face chased a shudder down his spine.

Red stopped. Even now he wouldn't think about it. He was many things, a criminal certainly, a murderer on occasion, most definitely a liar, but he never was able to tolerate the sick sexual perversions that corrupted minds and destroyed people. That was why Floriana had been at the top of his Blacklist.

Needless to say, his host never made it to his rendezvous with Luli. Something about a drug overdose...

Even back then he had the resources to easily get Luli out of the country and the medical attention that she had needed. An amazing woman, Red discovered that she could turn a dollar into a hundred in less than 15 minutes. That hundred into a thousand in less than eight hours.

It had only taken a few years before she had turned the wealth he had already accumulated into more….much more.

Red wasn't kidding when he had told Ressler at that first meeting that Luli hated men. That didn't mean she preferred woman, what it meant was that Luli could not tolerate intimacy. To her credit, she had tried, deciding one evening after several courage bolstering glasses of wine, to repay Red. After all, don't most heroines reward the hero with sex? And certainly, who was he to refuse?

She was beautiful.

He HAD saved her.

He enjoyed her company.

Far be it for him to turn her down. They weren't too long into the foreplay of the evening when he sensed the subtle change in Luli. The panic and fear he remembered seeing in her eyes that first night had quickly returned. Gently he removed himself from the delicate situation and decided then and there that Luli had her own demons to work through and he was not the man to work through them with.

He found he much rather preferred her friendship to anything else. And friend she was. Several years ago, feeling quite pleased with herself she had presented Red with an early Christmas gift. An island off the coast of South America.

Untouchable, untraceable. Of course, she had purchased it with his money, or money of his that she had "played" with. But the real gift was that the island could never be connected to him.

The phone rang, interrupting Red from his musings. Dembe answered and then handed the phone to him. A woman's soft Hispanic voice spoke, Marquetta Lopez, "She is still in surgery, her condition is uncertain". For the next eleven hours, on the hour, the message remained the same. Until finally Dembe answered, handing the phone to Red, announcing "It's Lopez."

A chill ran down Red's spine and Luli placed her hand on his thigh reassuringly.

"She made it through surgery. The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. The damage is extensive Raymond." The doctor paused. "Swelling of the brain, fractured skull, several ribs are broken and her lung is punctured, jaw fractured. Then there is the damage from the shrapnel... I'm sorry old friend."

"Thank you". Red handed the phone back to Dembe. He felt old. "Has Grey completed the arrangements?"

"Yes, the hospitals security cameras have been accessed. In addition, cameras have already been placed inside the critical trauma ward."

Red nodded, "Stop at the Post Office". He instructed before closing his eyes and absorbing the information that Manuel had given to him.

Ressler was waiting to escort him into the building. As they rode the elevator, he glanced at the man standing beside him taking in his worn appearance, noting the fact that he had aged twenty years in the last twenty-four hours. His face was covered with stubble and his normally immaculate clothing was rumpled. Tie discarded, vest unbuttoned. Obviously the man had been up all night and he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sympathy for him. As much as he had issues with Reddington, and he did, this was not the way he wanted to see him broken. He liked Elizabeth Keen, she had become his partner and an important part of the team.

"She made it through surgery" Ressler finally commented, just in case, for some strange reason Red hadn't heard the news. He felt stupid immediately after opening his mouth, waiting for a smart ass response from the man standing beside him. Red probably knew more about Elizabeth's condition than the FBI, but Red surprised him, acknowledging his comment with a brisk nod.

They stepped out of the elevator and walked into Coopers office, Ressler closing the door behind him. Agent Malik was already waiting along with the Assistant Director.

"Harold", Reds voice was deceptively calm, no hint of the internal rage and turmoil that still fueled him.

"Red', he returned the greeting before beginning. "This is what we know. The bomb was on a sixty second timer. It appears as if Agent Keen started the car and then left, perhaps to go back into the house for something. Speaking with neighbors they stated that the car hadn't been moved in several days, so we have no way of telling when the device had been planted." He droned on, describing the detonator and materials used in the manufacturing of the bomb. "At this point we don't know who is responsible. Agent Keen has been involved in several high profile cases during her tenure in New York and of course here. In addition, from what we have been able to gather, there has been some marital discord. Her husband is missing. Airports, trains, car rentals we're searching everywhere, but so far no luck in finding him. There is no way he will be able to get out of the country."

"Keep me posted Harold," Red stated flatly as he turned and started to leave the room.

"Reddington", Harolds voice stopped him but he didn't turn around.

"Agent Keen is our responsibility. I expect you to share any intel you gather regarding this situation with us. Do not, I repeat, do not think you are going to handle this on your own." Harold warned him.

The tension in the room was palpable as they watched his back stiffen and waited for his response. Finally he answered, "Of course Harold, I wouldn't have it any other way." He left the room without looking back.

The three agents glanced at each other, each trying to gauge Reds reaction. "I don't think he's going follow that order". Ressler finally said. Merlik glanced at him and rolled her eyes at his statement of the obvious.

Red returned back to the writers home, Grey waiting for him by the door. "Have you prepared everything?" He asked.

"Yes, it's ready. Why don't you get some rest. I'll take the first watch." Grey offered, looking at his face. gray and drawn.

"No, not yet." Red dismissed him with a nod and entered the study. In place of the mirror that he had destroyed earlier, was a large TV. Red picked up the remote and the screen came to life. Images of the hospital appeared, corridors, entrances, he flicked through the screens until he found her.

Broken.

Shattered.

Alive.

Laying in the bed, head bandaged. Everywhere there were tubes, in her mouth, her nose, arms. The maze of wires and machines surrounding her increasing his anger and frustration.

Failed. He had failed to keep his promise to her. That he would keep her safe. Only one other time in his life had he felt such despair and helplessness.

Ten days later it was done..


	4. Chapter 4

10 days later...

Assistant Director Cooper slammed the phone down, yanked his office door open and stepped into the war room. "You! You! You!" He jabbed his forefinger for emphasis with each word at Ressler, Malik and Aram. "My office now"! His voice terse, the urgency clearly marked. Ressler hung up his phone, while Malik put her half eaten sandwich down and Aman closed the lid of his laptop, all three agents moving quickly in response to his barked command.

"People - We have a situation". Cooper snapped as he glanced at each agent, verifying that he had their undivided attention before continuing. "Agent Keen is missing."

The silence was deafening, the proverbial "you could hear a pin drop" accurately describing it. Shocked expressions appearing on each of their faces. Resser was the first to speak, "Sir, Agent Keen is under armed guard and in an induced coma, how could she be missing?" He was certain the Assistant Director was mistaken. Federal Agents didn't just disappear.

"Apparently she was removed from her private room for an MRI. The agent in charge confirmed the paperwork, traveled with her to the location and then proceeded to wait outside until the test was completed. When she hadn't been brought out, he went in. The room was empty. The agent didn't realize there was another doorway in a supply closet that opened up to a parallel hallway".

Ressler swore and pushed his hand through his hair. Malik exhaled a huff and sat down in a chair and Aman stared at Cooper, his brown eyes wide and concerned.

"I know I don't need to explain to any of you the repercussions of this. We have an agent down, the victim of a targeted bombing, comatose, under guard and she is taken right out from under our noses!" He paced back and force. "We are the FBI and instead we look like a Laurel and Hardy joke. It's bad enough that we have yet to apprehend or identify anyone related to the bombing." He stopped pacing. "No one in this room has a life until she is found!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk.

"What about security cameras? They should show something". Aram asked hopefully.

"It's being gathered now. I expect you to go over every second of footage. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing." Cooper glanced around the room. "Malik", he shouted at the agent, "Are you listening?" he glared at her, she had removed her cell phone from her pocket, fingers tapping at the screen.

Meera was irritated.

She had an entire laundry list of reasons on why she was irritated.

Irritated that she had been pulled from her previous assignment, an assignment that she had spent four years working on.

Irritated that her superiors at the CIA had ordered her to release Tom Keen and report to the team that he was cleared.

Irritated that there were too many bad guys wearing white hats within these agency walls.

But mostly, right now, she was irritated with Copper who still couldn't see what was staring right in his face. Career be damned, the private sector job she had been offered was looking better each day. She glared back. "Yes Sir, I was just checking to see how long it takes for everyone in this room to figure out where Keen is". Her British accent filled with sarcasm.

Silence. The three men glanced at each other.

"Anyone? Anyone at all". She taunted, kissing her pension goodbye.

Aram raised his hand a few inches like a school boy and Meera couldn't help but roll her eyes at him.

"Ah, is it possible that Reddington took her?" he ventured nervously.

"There you have it! You move to the top of the class." She told him.

Cooper and Ressler shared a look of disbelief, the obvious slapping them hard in the face.

"Who else but Reddington has the resources to pull something like this off? Good God, the man hid from the FBI for over twenty years. He's made countless people disappear during that time. I'm sure this was nothing more than a walk in the park. The only positive note about this entire situation is that we won't find Elizabeth Keen dead somewhere". As pissed as she was at the criminal, she couldn't help but admire the thought and planning that would have gone into play in pulling something this large off successfully.

"Try and get him on the phone". Cooper ordered Aram, wondering how he was going to explain this to the Director. Without a doubt that Senate hearing was just around the corner for him and his career of thirty years along with it.

Aram returned in just a few minutes, "He's connected Sir."

Harold placed him speaker. "Reddington".

"Ah Harold, to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice"? Reds tone genial, no indication that this was nothing more than a social call.

"Where is she?" Cooper didn't bother to beat around the bush.

"Where's who, Harold?" the voice continued in a pleasant, but somewhat bored tone.

"Agent Keen". He gritted through his teeth.

"Why I believe Agent Keen is hospitalized. Unless there has been some miraculous change in her condition that you failed to share with me?"

"Agent Keen is missing from the hospital." Cooper clarified rubbing his eyes with his hand.

"Missing?" Red's voice rose with amazement. "Good God Harold, how could that possibly happen?" There wasn't a person in the room that didn't realize that Raymond "Red" Reddington had them just where he wanted them. "How embarrassing. I really hate to ask this, but was Ressler on duty? This just isn't going to look good on your record, now is it Harold? Tisk, tisk".

Resser jumped up from his chair and leaned into the speaker phone. "Look you son of a bitch, give her up now or I swear I will hunt you down like the dog you are!" He exploded.

The chuckle vibrated around the room. "Donald, you're so amusing when you get your panties in a wad. But enough of that" His voice changed, all pretense vanishing and that frightening hard edge that they all knew so well taking its place. "You obviously are not competent enough to keep her safe, so I'll take that little responsibility off your hands. Rest assured, her care will be top notch. Perhaps without the worry of keeping her protected you will be able to focus on finding who did this to her." The derision clear. "Oh, and Donald…". His voice once again pleasant, modulated. "Don't fuck with me." He warned before hanging up.

xxxxxx

The logistics of moving her had been nothing short of a nightmare, even for him. But by the second day of the explosion Red had already set the wheels in motion. Marquetta Jorge had located a small private hospital in Venezuela that was 45 minutes from the island by helicopter. With state of the art facilities and exorbitant price tag, it assured patients and their families of total care and discretion. Elizabeth Keen was not the first incognito patient that had been treated there and she wouldn't be the last.

The most worrisome part of the entire transfer for Red had been the actual transporting of Lizzie. He had held his breath through the entire flight, even though both Manuel and Marquetta had accompanied her along with an enormous assortment of emergency medical equipment. It wasn't until she had been safely ensconced in her private room and the physicians had thoroughly examined her that Red breathed a sigh of relief.

He stayed with her constantly, only allowing himself to be relieved by either Dembe or Grey and when the Doctors determined it was time to start reducing the medication that kept her in the induced coma, all three men waited. When she finally opened her eyes, Red was by her side.

"Hello Lizzie, Welcome back". He said in that special voice that he reserved just for her, the weight that he had been living with since she had been injured, finally lifting.

She looked up at him, blue eyes cloudy and confused. "Where am I?' her voice a whisper from being unused for so long.

"In the hospital, you were hurt but you're going to be fine now."

She nodded before closing her eyes and falling back to sleep.

It was the middle of night when she awakened the second time, Red still sitting by her bedside. When her eyelashes fluttered open, Red smiled.

"How do you feel?" His voice soft, his hand reaching for hers. Her fingers were cold and he placed his other hand over hers, rubbing them together to warm her.

"I don't know, tired I guess". She shook her head and searched his face, stared into what she thought must be the kindest, most beautiful green eyes and golden lashes ever. She shook her head again as if trying to clear her thoughts.

"You'll feel better with each day now that you're awake Lizzie." He assured her. Unable to stop, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Everything will be fine, I promise you." Red stroked her hair away from her forehead, unable to stop smiling at her, unable to stop drinking in the sight of her. He was so happy this nightmare was finally coming to a close and he had his Lizzie back.

He tensed when he felt her pull her hand away from his. His joy at having her awake quickly turning to confusion as her expression changed into one of panic and fear.

"What happened to me?" her voice began to rise with hysteria. "Who are you?" She backed up as far as she could in the bed, terror gripping her as she realized that she had awakened into an empty, black, chasm.


	5. Chapter 5

First off, thank you so much for all the great reviews and follows! What positive reinforcement that I'm not writing gibberish. What I thought would be a quick little story has morphed into something longer and I find I am jumping around working on the various chapters to come! But here is the next chapter and the one after that to soon follow!

While reading this, I hope you think of the song "Wicked Game" sung by Emika. Selinabln on Tumblr has the most wonderful video put togther with this song. post/69302874509/new-vid-the-blacklist-red-liz-wicked-game

Chapter 5

Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled a deep shaky breath of air. She was scared at the thought of leaving the hospital and the familiarity it offered. Of stepping out into a world she knew nothing of. She glanced at the man who had come to collect her. His smile relaxed and warm. Over the past few weeks he had been the only constant in her life. It should have frightened her, this dependency that she felt for him, but the only fear she felt for Raymond Reddington was the fear that he might abandon her and vanish from her life. If he did, she knew she would cease to be. Elizabeth Keen would be no more and even worse there would be no one to mourn her.

She felt some of the tension seep out of her when her eyes searched and found his, they were sure and steady, as always. She didn't understand why she felt so safe with him, she imagined that her subconscious recognized him even if her conscious didn't. It wasn't something she dwelled on, there was no purpose to that. It just was. Raymond was her anchor, ever since that first moment when she had realized that she had no memory of her past and he pulled her into his arms and held her close until the godawful terror had subsided.

"Lizzie, are you ready for your big day?" Red asked, elegant in a three piece tropical suit and fedora, looking every bit of the wealthy, successful importer that he was.

"I guess." she said tentatively, inhaling deeply."You said this will be my first visit?"

"Yes, I had been hoping to bring you over for the Christmas holidays." Before all hell had broken loose and everything had changed, but Red didn't add that, he strived to keep their conversations light. "Ah, here's Dembe to collect your things and take us home."

She smiled at the man, having met him earlier in the week. Raymond had told her that Dembe was his jack of all trades man, there was nothing he wasn't capable of doing. She liked the sound of his voice, with it's exotic accent. She liked his smile. She liked his compassionate brown eyes. He was a big man, body builder big, she should have been intimidated by him, but wasn't. She had known him from before, the man named Grey also, Raymond had explained, but again, she had no recollection.

How are you feeling today?" Dembe asked kindly.

"Nervous," she admitted, watching as he picked up the suitcase that Raymond had brought not long after she had regained consciousness. The bag had been filled with beautiful, hand stitched nightgowns and undergarments, toiletries and perfumes. She remembered fingering the fine lace and silk of the garments, trying to match herself to the luxurious items and failing completely.

They left the hospital having already said her goodbyes to the staff, Raymond close behind her, his hand on the small of her back, thumb rubbing soft soothing circles, reassuring, guiding her. "Don't be nervous, Lizzie. You'll love the villa. It's beautiful. Built in the thirties, I've only just recently finished its restoration." Red helped her into the back seat of a Mercedes before joining her, thighs brushing as he settled in beside her. She, glanced over her shoulder as the hospital faded in the distance, wondering not for the first time, what had happened to put her on this particular path. As if he knew the sudden turn of her thoughts, Raymond grasped her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze and she forgot to be afraid. With a deep sigh she settled in next to him, the warmth of his body immediately soothing her.

xxxxx

He was right, it was like a dream. The apprehension she felt from the helicopter flight disappearing when the island came into view. The villa was big, white with black wrought iron railings and scrolled grills on the windows. The red clay tiled roof a marked contrast to the vivid blue of the sky. Shaped like a U, the straightaway facing the ocean, a wide expanse of perfectly manicured green grass separating it from the cliff that dropped off onto what looked to be a rocky beach below. Two wings jutted on either side, creating a large center courtyard, below that, gardens stretching out until they reached the thick cover of trees, even from above she could make out the scarlet of the flowers.

"It's beautiful Raymond." Was all she could manage from her birds eye view.

"I'm glad you think so Lizzie." Red exited the helicopter first, placing a protective arm around her shoulder and quickly leading her away from the spinning rotors and towards a utility vehicle that waited nearby.

Lizzie didn't see the man at first, he had been standing in the shade of several large trees. He stepped out and nodded to her and she immediately leaned back into Raymond, her body seeking the protection she knew she would find. His face was rugged and weathered, skin tanned a dark golden brown, but it was the startling, crystal blue eyes that she noticed first. If she could remember anything of her past, it would be the certainty that she had never seen eyes like his before. He was wearing faded jeans, black tee shirt, boots. His salt and pepper hair was shoulder length and pulled into a ponytail and it appeared as if he hadn't shaved all week. He was attractive, a deadly sort of attractiveness no doubt, but it was the air of danger that he exuded that made her nervous.

"Jacob takes care of the property. He has a small cottage on the other side of the island. And where is Peter, the mischief maker?" Red asked him with a wry grin.

"Not here Boss, the kid is looking at being grounded." Jacob replied with a shrug and a nod at Lizzie.

"Peter is Jacob's son, you'll meet him another time then. Your starting to look drained, let's get you settled in." Red explained.

A yellow flash in the woods caught her eye as a boy came running towards them. "Sorry Dad.' He puffed, checks red, chest heaving when he reached them.

Lizzie couldn't help but smile. Maybe twelve, thirteen, he had that gangling look boys of that age have. Growing to fast, body not quite catching up to long legs and arms. He had his fathers blue eyes. Bluebird, yes, they were bluebird blue. Incredible eyes.

"There you are Peter? How is your school work progressing?" Red asked the boy, ruffling his head and handing him what looked to be a CD.

"Wow, thanks Mr. R. How did you know I wanted this?"

"I have my sources." He winked at Dembe who had joined them.

"Peter, this is Miss Elizabeth, she will be staying here. Lizzie, this is Peter."

"Pleased to meet you." He said politely, his focus already on the gift he had received.

"Likewise I'm sure." She couldn't help but smile at him. He was a replica of his father and she wondered how this young man could look so innocent while his father looked so...not innocent.

Jacob drove the utility vehicle that took them from the helicopter to the house, a short five minute ride. Even though she was tired and overwhelmed by the stress of the day, she couldn't help but gawk as they entered the magnificent center hallway. Like a movie set, the steps curved down the side and the ceiling climbed dramatically into a dome, the floor a beautiful black and white check marble.

"Of course you know Grey," Raymond said, The two nodded at each other. "Welcome Miss Elizabeth, it's wonderful to see you recovering so nicely.' His eyes narrowing critically, taking in her appearance before nodding briskly. She felt like a school girl in front of the head master, waiting to be called to task. "I'll take your bag to your room." He departed up the staircase, back ramrod straight.

"I didn't quite imagine it like this Raymond. It's very..." she paused, "I thought it would be simpler," turning around slowly to take it all in.

"I've been very fortunate with my professional ventures." Which indeed was true. Red owned several legitimate businesses all over the world not just the import/export business he had told Lizzie about. A cannery in Alaska, an oil company that operated in the middle east, a manufacturing company in Italy. They functioned, turned a profit or loss and all of them provided Red with a cover to move money or merchandise for his more non-legitimate activities.

"I want you to met Sophia and Robert and then I need to get you settled in your room. You look like your ready to drop." His hand cupped her elbow as he lead her through the house, pointing out the various rooms. "This is actually called the Ballroom, Lizzie. Though I am somewhat embarrassed to admit I have never entertained here."

He opened the double doors into a large, mostly empty room. French doors and windows lined one wall and she assumed they opened out to the courtyard She counted at least nine crystal chandeliers hanging. The room had been designed for parties, dancing, laughter. A concert grand piano sat in corner. Small round tables and upholstered chairs had been pushed to one side of the room, most covered with white sheets adding to the forlorn air of the room. A chill chased her spine.

"As I recall Lizzie, you are musically talented, you may want to try the piano later." Red watched her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction, waiting to see if it triggered any response. The specialists that had treated Lizzie had not been able to predict a prognoses on whether her memory loss was permanent or temporary. She could remember everything tomorrow, they had told him, or she might never regain her past. Brain injuries were difficult and it was impossible to tell if her memory loss was due to her injuries or if it was a more emotional trauma or combination of both. She had been lucky they reminded him, that her recovery thus far had been so positive.

"No, I don't think so". Her expression becoming anxious as she backed out of the room slowly.

"As long as you remember that everything in my house is also yours". He lead her to the kitchen. The room was warm inviting, with white washed walls and a scarred wooden table that would seat a dozen. Copper pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, a large fireplace. The appliances discreetly hidden behind matching cabinetry. A perfect marriage of old and new. "This is Sophia and Robert, they take care of the house and grounds."

She smiled faintly and murmured what she hoped was a appropriate response, but she could feel the beginnings of a headache starting, the day had been long and emotional for her. Red immediately noticed her paler and the slight trembling of her fingers. "Sophia, would you be kind enough to bring a pot of tea to Elizabeth's room and ask Dembe to bring her medication in."

Within a few minutes he had her sitting on the edge of her bed, a glass of water in his hand along with her pain pills. His face tight with concern at the obvious discomfort she was in, a tear tricking down her cheek. He brushed it away. This was not the first migraine he had witnessed since her injury and he knew that unless she found relief in sleep, she would be completely incapacitated. His jaw clenched in anger as he thought of all she had gone through.

"Lzzie you need to get comfortable. Do you want me to help you or shall I call Sophia?" Her eyes closed, she squeezed his hand lightly and he took that to mean she would accept his assistance.

He entered the spacious walk in closet that he had filled with clothing for her and selected a white cotton nightshirt. His hands unbuttoned her blouse and he removed it before shimming the night gown over her head and shoulders in an attempt to preserve some sense of modesty for her. Covering her as best he could, he removed her bra and finished undressing her. Carefully he placed one arm under her knees the other around her shoulders and pressed her back onto the bed. Already she was slipping into sleep.

The room grew dark with the fading of daylight. An open book on his lap, a scotch in his hand as he sat in the wing backed chair next to her bed. He reflected on his motivations towards the woman who still slept. He told himself that he stayed in the room because he didn't want her to awake alone, groggy from the medicine, trying to gather her barrings and remember where she was. That part of it was certainly true, the other part was just as simple - he didn't want to leave her. He needed to...savor this time, to drink in the essence of just being alone with her. For so many years he had only imagined their being together. And now, finally, within the midst of the violence and lies that had brought them to this point, they were together. She was with him, in his home and he wasn't about to relinquish the hold he had on her to anyone or anything.

He would be the first to admit that life had been easier when Lizzie had simply been an unasked for liability and then a responsibility that fell to him. A responsibility that was unwanted, but still one he assumed. The innocent victim of fallout beyond her control. As time passed, the responsibility was replaced with something stronger...paternal perhaps, though he had always been reluctant to use that word in conjunction with Lizzie.

A faint smile chased over his face. She had been a good child, good grades, well mannered, always trying to please her adoptive father and she had succeeded in that. She had been the apple of Sam's eye, no doubt.

But for him, her accomplishments, her very being, began to feel as though it had all started with him. Because of him. Misguided, even arrogant he knew, since he never involved himself in her life after he had left her with Sam. It had all been Sam, he had been the one to guide her as a child, to instill in her the sense of moral righteousness she held so high. But nothing would ever change the fact that it had been HE that had made the decision to leave her with Sam.

There had been other options.

So in the end, misguided or not, he justified that all she was today had started with him.

At some point in their relationship - he corrected himself - _his_ relationship with her, his feelings changed. That paternal or as he preferred to think of it, benevolent feeling, became something more. When? He thought back and could remember it clearly. It had been several years since he had actually seen her. He was always aware of what was transgressing in her life. Grey was responsible for keeping him posted on the highlights, which always had a tendency to put him in a melancholy mood. But this time was different, he had felt a pulling that wouldn't be sated until he had actually seen her.

It had been so long, five years at least. She had graduated college, was working her first job, first apartment. Experiencing life on her own for the first time. He watched from a distance in the restaurant, sat deep in a corner, nursing a drink, as she laughed with whoever the young man was that she was with. He noticed how her face had lost the rounded softness of girlhood, maturing into angles, high cheekbones and full lips. Sensual lips. That was when he felt the first stirrings of something that was no longer… benevolent. He left the restaurant and the country soon after, disturbed by the revelation. Even more disturbed as the feeling grew stronger over time instead of fading. To his credit, he stayed away, continued on with his life, with his quest for revenge, for money, for the power he knew his name yielded. He found company with women of whom he had never felt a... paternal or benevolent urge towards. Until Grey had given him the message that Lizzie was marrying.

His Lizzie.

He sent Sam a large check to cover the wedding expenses and whatever else the young couple needed to start their lives with and he continued to stay away.

It had been a mistake he regretted to this day. Had he gone to see her then, he would have recognized the other half of the young lovers. He could have stopped their relationship before the tendrils of trust and love had grown strong. Grown into marriage, a home, the planning of children. A future. Stopped it before knowing that if she knew the truth about Tom Keen she would be devastated. Stopped it before he ever involved her in his Blacklist.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Red stood on the terrace overlooking the courtyard contemplating how his priorities had shifted and changed over the last two months. It had been eight weeks since he had removed Lizzie from US. Six weeks since she had awakened with no memory of who she was or her life before being injured and almost a month since he had received the okay to bring her home to the villa.

He could just make out her still form, resting under the large stuccoed cabana that sheltered the outdoor living area by the pool. He finally descended the terrace steps and courtyard, following the stone path through the garden towards her. He walked with an air of purpose. He resented having to leave the island this last week, but felt he had no other choice, torn between his reluctance to leave Lizzie and his desire to eliminated Tom Keen and those responsible for hurting her. To date, finding Tom Keen had been much like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Not surprising really. The world was still big and there were lots of places a man could hide. Eventually Tom Keen would surface and be found and he would be the one to merit justice on the man. This last trip had been to start sowing the seeds that would draw Tom Keen out of his hole and put an end to his life.

His eyes scanned every inch of her sleeping form, methodically noting each feature of her body. His eyes narrowed, there was nothing in her appearance that pleased him. Her hair was dull, twisted up in a ragged ponytail, her complexion pale which had to be next to impossible in this climate. Her collarbone pronounced through her translucent skin. He sat beside her on the edge of the chaise lounge, careful to not disturb her sleep and started to review the notes in the black leather bound book that Grey had provided him with. Details of how she spent the last week in his absence were written in crisp neat handwriting. What time she had awaken, what she had eaten, how well she had completed her physical therapy, medications...

He was not happy.

Instead of growing stronger each day, she was digressing. She had only gained two pounds since coming out of the coma. Refusing to exercise for more than a few minutes. Sleeping almost 16 hours a day and napping throughout the remaining hours. Physically her injuries had for the most part healed, but the concern now had switched to her mental state and the deep depression that she had fallen into. Normal for someone who had been through the trauma she had, but still cause for concern, her physicians on the mainland had told him. Red had been slow to pick up on the signs, a fact that caused him great distress. Initially he had contributed her lack of interest and her desire to sleep as part of the healing process and the medications she was on.

He would not permit this to go on any longer.

"Lizzie, sweetheart, it's time to wake up." His eyes didn't match the gentle reassuring tone of his voice.

Eyelashes fluttered as she slowly came awake. Confused at first and then recognizing the voice. "Raymond, your home." Her smile faint, as she sat up higher in the lounge.

"Indeed, did you miss me?" He teased, not bothering to wait for her answer. Their relationship was complicated, an understatement to be sure. She had believed readily enough his explanation of who he was - her guardian and guardian was the truth. He would always guard her. But he wasn't family, they had not been lovers and the word "friend" didn't sit right with him, certainly business partner wouldn't fly in the light of day. So he had settled for guardian and she had accepted that, like she accepted most explanations in her current medical condition. When she had asked him how long she had known him, he had answered truthfully. "I've know you since you were a child." His honest response satisfying her curiosity.

"Rumor has it that you have not been a good girl Lizzie. Let's see, what do I have here – breakfast, half a slice of wheat toast, one-third cup of black coffee, two bites of unsweetened grapefruit segments." He arched a quizzical eyebrow at her, waiting for her explanation.

She sighed and closed her eyes, "Grey is such a tattletale."

"Leave Grey out this." His tone deceptively even. "I want an explanation. You are never going to recover if you continue this way. You promised me before I left that you would try harder."

"I don't care," her voice petulant. "It's all to hard and everything I try to do just makes my head hurt. Why don't you just leave me alone and let me sleep." She rolled to her side facing away from him. Dismissing him.

"You know that's not going to happen, Elizabeth. Your going to get better if I have to drag you kicking and screaming the entire way. Now stop being such a cry baby. Get up, your going for a swim." Even though he didn't raise his voice, his words were sharp.

Her eyes opened wide with shock and she rolled quickly back towards him. "Oh, no. No I'm not! I don't swim." She was adamant, giving him her full attention now, eyes wide with shock.

"You have no idea if you can swim or not, so we are about to find out." Red's tone brokering no argument.

"No, no! Look, I'm not even dressed to swim." She was becoming alarmed at the fact that she may have to actually DO something when all she wanted was sleep.

Red glanced at the gray jersey knit shorts and top she wore, which looked suspiciously like sleepwear.

"You can swim in that." He shrugged off the black robe he had been wearing over his own swimming trunks and held out his hand to her.

Even if she couldn't remember anything about this man, she could still recognize iron determination in anyone and she was seeing it now. She didn't like it. It made her nervous, apprehensive. Lizzie tried changing tactics.

"Later, I'll swim. Tell me about your trip." She caught her lip nervously between her teeth as she tried to convince him.

"Now, Elizabeth." His tone indicating that he knew exactly what game she was playing.

"No, later, my head hurts." She told him defiantly, it wasn't a lie, her head always seemed to be aching and it was only going to be a matter of time till she had a full blown migraine.

He crouched down in front of her, green orbs surrounded by blonde lashes, their faces only inches apart. His tone was soft, his words were clear but the steel lacing his voice making it quite obvious that there was no room for argument. "You have two choices, my dear. You can either get up and walk into this pool like a big girl or I can pick you up and drop you into it. Which would you prefer?"

Frustrated, she could feel her eyes tearing up. Why was he being so mean to her? He had never been mean to her before. He had always been kind and sweet and gentle. She could feel the tears starting to slide down her face. All she wanted to do was sleep. Like a pesky fly, she tried swatting him away with her hand.

His voice turned gentle, soothing, deep, it never failed to calm her when her fears surfaced as they did so often. "Come on sweetheart, your not trusting me. Remember you promised to trust me." He reminded her, his gaze softened as his hand cupped her face and his thumb brushed away the tears.

A huff of defeat escaped from her lips as she pushed her face closer into the palm of his hand. "I'm not happy about this" she relented, letting him help her stand.

"No dear, I'm sure your not." He couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Its not nice to bully." Determined to have the last word.

"I'm sure your correct." Hand firmly on her elbow as he led her down the steps and into the water.

"Your going to…." she started.

"One more word Lizzie and I swear I will toss you in." His good humor restored at winning the first battle with her.

The water was delicious, there was no other word for it, she thought as he took both her hands in his and tugged her into the deep end. She glanced at him, he was watching her with an amused smirk. Once he again was right. Her eyes met his and she flushed, wondering for the life of her why she was so fascinated with the tight curls of hair on his chest.

xxxxxxxxx

Each day he let her sleep in as long as she wanted. He would attend to his business affairs in the morning and then wait patiently till she joined him on the terrace for lunch. After their meal, he would start the day activities. He was ruthless in his determination, he attacked the issue of Lizzie's health with the same thought and precision he used when planning the elimination of his enemies. They would hike, or swim, or play a lazy game of tennis on the clay court. The physical activities pushing her out of her despondent state of mind, her body becoming stronger, her sleeping sounder, her appetite increasing until she started to gain back her much needed loss of weight and the depression that had taken hold of her, finally retreating.

They had just finished a hike and picnic snack, a soft blanket spread out on the ground, Lizzie was resting her head on his thighs, looking up into the thick canopy of trees above them. Red toyed with the soft tendrils of her hair, his back resting against a tree trunk. He wanted their relationship to be more, he craved that intimacy with her that seemed to always be just outside of his reach. He also understood that she was not emotionally ready to handle a change in their relationship. She had an innocent, childlike perception of his feelings for her and Red understood quite well that now was not the time to try and change that perception. It was far to early. One advantage to his age though was his ability to school his body, instead of his body schooling him. He wanted her with a desire and passion that only grew stronger, but he also understood that a physical relationship would take time and patience and quite possibly never happen.

But for now he was content and truth be told, he could easily live out the rest of his life like this. Days spent drifting in the company of this woman that he treasured. His blacklist fading, willing to trade his need for revenge for the happiness he felt at this moment. As pragmatic as he was, he couldn't help but question how long their idyllic existence would last. He would never hinder her in becoming fully recovered, he would do everything in his power to help her regain what had been taken away, spare nothing if it meant that she found her center. But then again if it never happened, if she never remembered, then so be it. It was something that he could easily accept, he only hoped she would be able to also. Occasionally she would question him about her past. Some answers he could freely give her, others he would refuse to answer using the Doctors excuse that she needed to be the one to remember her past naturally.

"Raymond what's going to happen to me?" The question came out of the blue, taking him by surprise.

He thought about his answer, what may have motivated her in asking, before cautiously replying "Whatever you want to have happen, Lizzie. Look at this as an opportunity. The world awaits you, my dear."

"Can I tell you something?" She asked as he continued to wrap the long strands of her hair around his fingers. "I don't mind not remembering my past. What I don't like is when I remember that I can't remember. Does that make sense to you?" Her dark blue eyes searching his face.

A faint smile curved his lips, "Yes Lizzie, that makes perfect sense."

She nodded, somehow she had known that he would follow her crazy logic. "I worry about what would have happened to me if I didn't have you."

"Don't waste your energy thinking about things that aren't so. You have me, you will always have me Lizzie." He reassured her.

" I just feel so useless sometimes. Like I should be contributing. Everything I have, home, food, clothing, is all because of you."

"Everything I own Lizzie, already belongs to you."

"Why?"

"Because." he answered, unable to say anything more.

She sighed and closed her eyes, the gentle stroking of his hand soothing her fears.

xxxxxxxxx

Most evenings they would settle in the library. Lizzie loved the room, there were books everywhere. Lined up on the shelves, stacked in corners, it was warm and golden, reminding her of another room that refused to show itself in detail, that just lingered in that dark spot that was her past. She didn't read, since reading was a sure trigger to bring on headache, but Raymond would read to her and she would find herself lost in the sound of his beautiful voice.

"Chess, my dear.' He stated when she joined him after their dinner.

"Really? That sounds... difficult." Her tone reluctant, not particularly interested in learning the game. She would much rather curl up on her end of the sofa and listen to him read to her, basking in the hypnotic timbre of his voice.

"Indulge me." Red began removing each individual piece from its pouch and placing it on the board. Teaching Lizzie the game served a dual purpose for Red. Lizzie needed to work on her concentration skills. He had noted, along with Dembe and Grey that Lizzie could be easily distracted. She had a tendency to be in the middle of a task, stop and then start doing something else entirely different, forgetting entirely what she had been doing just a brief few minutes before. On several occasions he had actually used her lack of concentration to his advantage. Specifically when she would ask a question about her past that he wasn't prepared to answer. Red had spoken with the Doctor and he had suggested several exercises to improve her focus and concentration. Red had decided that Chess would be the prime learning tool.

She sat down opposite him, her fingers touching the hand carved pieces. "Where did you get this? It's beautiful." She admired the chess pieces.

"It's Russian, 18th century. Each piece is hand carved from either light or dark amber." The board set up, Red asked "Black or White?" Indicating she should select her side.

Lizzie stared at the pieces for a moment, "Black." Red turned the board so the black pieces were in front of her, somewhat surprised. He personally preferred playing the black pieces, but for some reason he would have thought Lizzie would have chosen the white.

"The game of Chess is one of strategy and wit. The purpose is to place the King in checkmate, from which escape is impossible." Red started to explain. He went on to pick each piece up, naming it and explaining how the piece moved on the board. "This is the Bishop, it moves diagonally and here is the Rook, it moves in a straight line, the Knight moves in an L pattern, up two squares and either left or right one."

He looked at her, stopping his tutelage. " Are you paying attention Lizzie?" She glanced up, her brow furring, nodding and Red continued. "The Queen. The Queen moves forward, backwards sideways and diagonally. She can capture any piece that stands in her way. The Queen, Lizzie, is the most important piece in the game. She is far more powerful than the King, since he can only move one square at a time." Red wondered if she was astute enough to pick up on his double entree.

She sighed, doubtful that she would ever keep all of this straight, certain that she didn't want to.

"The key to being a skilled chess player is having the ability to not just plan your future moves, but to anticipate your opponents future moves. In your mind, you must be able to step through each possible scenario determining the most effective play." He tapped her hand with his fingers to capture her attention. She looked up and gave him a sheepish smile, concentrating on the lesson.

"What did I say Lizzie?" He quizzed, with an amused glint in his eyes.

"That I must be able to anticipate my opponents every move." She recited primly.

"Very good." He gave her a pleased smile, she was still a quick learner.


	7. Chapter 7

Well here it is, the chapter some of you have been waiting so patiently for! Hope it meets your expectations and apologies for taking so long to get here! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and follows and favorites - Its very validating as I write this to know that my story is being enjoyed.

If you haven't heard the song "Timber", by Ke$ha and Pitbull, check it out on YouTube. Its a fun, wild, crazy song that inspired me while I wrote this chapter.

Chapter 7

"Everything has been prepared?" Red questioned the man standing in the door frame of his private study.

Jacob nodded and entered the room closing the door behind him. "You know I'm reluctant for you to do this with only Dembe for backup. You will be in great danger once the final stage has been set. I can have a team put together in less than twelve hours."

Red shrugged his lack of concern, his mind already working through the logistics of the meeting ahead in Bangladesh. His bait was being nibbled on and if this next part of the plan was successful, it would led him even closer to the man he had spent months chasing. "I have the utmost confidence in the arrangements you've made."

"You say that Raymond, but what if you don't come out on the other side? What happens to her then?" Jacob asked, recognizing perhaps better than his employer who was blinded by the need for revenge, of how great the risk was.

"She has been provided for Jacob. You're aware of that. Both Dembe and Grey have assured me that they will remain with her." Dismissing his objections with the wave of his hand.

"It's not the physical or the financial well being I'm referring to if you happen to end up dead." Jacob reminded him bluntly.

Red's eyes narrowed at his words. "Its a chance that I'm going to take. Have some faith in me."

"Let it go Raymond. Enjoy what you have now. Keep your hands clean." He urged, unwilling to give up the argument so easily.

"Becoming soft in your old age?" Red sneered, the remark deliberately cruel. Wanting, no needing to have his own way in the matter of Tom Keen and not tolerating having his decision questioned.

"No, just reminding you of how fragile life is and how everything can change in just a heartbeat. You have the girl, she is alive. It's much more than what the alternative could have been. Let me go, I'll take care of the matter for you." Jacob pushed back, not the least offended or reprimanded by his remark, they had been together far to long for that to be.

Red puffed a sigh, an apology of sorts and met his concerned eyes. "Out of the question. As you are well aware, there's a reason I won't permit you in the field any longer." As head of his security and intelligence Red had pulled Jacob from any actual "hands on" work after the death of his ex-wife, relocating him and Peter to the island where the child could grow up with a semblance of normalcy and the risk of being an orphan reduced.

"Be careful, you know I have never liked Schmidt." Jacob reminded him, knowing he had lost the battle.

"Understood." Red acknowledged his concern.

xxxx

Red knocked on the door to Lizzie's bedroom. It was to early for her to have risen, but he wanted to tell her personally that he was leaving the island Some tasks he refused to entrust to others and that included most of the things related to the woman behind the door.

She didn't answer his knock and he rapped again, sharper this time. "Lizzie? Are you decent?" Hearing no sounds of movement he cautiously opened the door, not wanting to catch her in the midst of showering or dressing.

A frown furrowed his forehead, the room was empty. Bed already neatly made up. He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist, 8:30 a.m., strange, as far as he knew, Lizzie never awaken before 10:00 a.m. and then her schedule would be to shower, dress and join him promptly at 11:30 a.m. on the terrace.

He found Grey in the kitchen, just retreating out the door.

"Do you know where Elizabeth is?" Red immediately noticed the mans military posture straighten even more.

Grey turned and looked at him, face schooled into a bland expression, a bottle of imported water in one hand and pair of woman's sandals in the other. "I believe she is in the lower garden, Sir."

"and just what would she be doing down there?" The even monotone of his voice chilling the room, the unasked question of why he hadn't been informed of the change in her daily routine hanging in the air.

"Perhaps cutting some flowers for the house, Sir."

Red relaxed slightly, distracted by the answer. He could easily picture her in a sundress, looking feminine and beautiful, filling a basket with the fresh flowers that she knew he enjoyed. It was a delightful picture that he envisioned in his mind and one he had every intention of giving himself the satisfaction of seeing before he left.

"Would you care for me to give her a message?" Grey interrupted his thoughts.

"No, I'll do it myself. The lower garden you said?"

"Are you certain Sir? It's no problem." Grey's body still blocking the doorway.

Red shook his head no, eyes speculative, "That won't be necessary." Holding his hand out, the request unspoken as he waited for Grey to hand him the items he held. He arched an eyebrow in question as he took the sandals and dangled them from his fingertips.

"She forgot her shoes." Grey explained, not quite meeting his eyes.

Red searched the man's face closely. Grey had been in his employ since almost the beginning, he knew the man well. He wondered how and when he had missed his shifting loyalties.

xxxxxxxx

"Boump boump, boump." Red could hear the faint drum beat, his eyes scanning but not finding Lizzie. With the heavy pounding of the bass to guide him he followed the downward sloping path to the lower garden and then beyond.

The salty ocean winds tormented this portion of the island, the surf not far. Scrub trees were bent and twisted from the constant pounding. Only the hardiest of wild flowers, clinging to the rocks that littered the area were able to survive. He had been the one to make the decision to abandon this part of the property, determining that it was best to let nature reclaim what it wanted.

"Boump, boump, boump." The beat of the music growing louder with each step.

"Boump, boump, boump," What on earth was she listening to?

He rounded the final curve of what was now only a beaten path and stopped short, inhaling sharply at the sight that greeted him. There was Lizzie, his Lizzie, her back to him, her hips moving in uninhibited rhythm to the beat of the music. Singing along enthusiastically to the words of a song he had never heard before, blissfully unaware that she was being watched.

It's going down, I'm yelling timber  
You better move, you better dance  
Let's make a night you won't remember  
I'll be the one you won't forget.

He would have thought it impossible for anyone to move their hips the way she was. Would have bet hard cold money on it and he would have been wrong. Rake in hand, those slim hips kept perfect time to the beat of the song. Left, right, left, left, right, right ... She bent from the waist, her ass on full display, still rocking back and forth as she reached for a clump of grass and tossed it aside. Red was only vaguely aware of the song changing to rap, he was to engrossed in watching the frenzied movement of her hips.

Swing your partner round and round  
End of the night, it's going down  
One more shot, another round  
End of the night, it's going down

She was wearing a pair of the shortest shorts possible, Ragged, faded blue jean shorts that barely hung on her slender hips. Shorts that he knew perfectly well he had never selected for her wardrobe. Beads of perspiration broke out above his lip and his eyes narrowed and grew dark as he locked onto the top she wore. A mans or boys, mostly likely Peters, white wife beater tee shirt, the thin ribbed fabric clinging to her like a second skin, her lack of bra evident. Arms and shoulders glistening as she continued to rock her hips back and forth to the blaring music. Rocking against him he imagined, legs wrapped around him as he pounded into her.

It's going down, I'm yelling timber  
You better move, you better dance  
Let's make a night you won't remember  
I'll be the one you won't forget.

Within seconds he was fully aroused, engorged, thick and throbbing, his breathing shallow. Right now the only thing he wanted to do was slip behind her, flick her shorts down and bury himself into the wet warmth that he knew was there. He was a fool for ever thinking that he would be able to contain his more carnal desires for her.

LIzzie abruptly spun around, the sensation of being watched startling her. Her stomach plummeted with vertigo. She felt that frightening sense of standing at a great height and the uncontrollable sensation that she was about to fall. The expression of raw hunger on his face made her gasp and take a step backwards. In the midst of her confusion it suddenly occurred to her that he was a dangerous man. That realization shocked her as much as the desire she saw on his face.

She had never seen him look at her like this before, skin stretched taunt, eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth a thin tight line. A tremor of fear shot through her as his eyes locked on hers and she noticed the slight muscle twitch below his cheekbone. The rush of sexual awareness followed the fear, tightening her nipples, shocking her with its intensity.

She blinked once and when she looked at him again his face had changed back into the face she knew and trusted. The face of the man that had stood by her all these long months, who had provided for her and anticipated her every need or want. The danger, the desire she thought she had seen so clearly, gone. Only the shaking of her knees and the need she still felt, told her she hadn't imagined it. Or had she, she questioned herself.

"Lizzie, what are you doing down here? You're to far from the house." His voice sounding harsher than he intended, but he was still trying to push back the arousal that could only be described as savage and base.

"Ahhh" Was the best she could do, her mind still trying to comprehend whatever it was that had just happened.

Lets make a night you won't remember  
'll be the one you won't forget

He bent down and turned off the music, "I need to leave. I'll be back in a day or two." He searched her face, trying to gauge her reaction to his momentarily lapse of control, almost certain that she had seen it.

"Ah huh." This time she managed a nod, as she swallowed the lump that was lodged in her throat.

"We'll discuss this," He waved his arm at her obvious attempts to restore the garden, "When I return."

This time she didn't even bother to try and answer, just nodded, her blue eyes wide.

He closed the few feet between them, handed her the bottle of water and dropped the sandals onto the ground. "Put them on." He ordered briskly. Turning away, he left the way he came, needing to put distance between them quickly, unable to trust himself to control the urge to push her down into the grass and take her then and there, consequences be damned. He was shaken by the thought of what would have amounted to rape.

When he was out of sight, she exhaled, her shoulder slumping. Legs buckling, she sunk to the ground and pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, heart still pounding. The expression on his face had shaken her to her very core. She didn't know how long she sat there replaying over and over again in her mind that moment when she had realized she was being watched and seeing the raw lust in his face. This was a man she didn't know, had never seen before. What more was there to their relationship that Raymond had not told her? She vaguely heard the noise of the helicopter as it left the island

She became aware of someone saying her name, touching her shoulder. She looked up and saw Grey standing above her. "Come along. I think you've done enough work for the day." He bent down and slipped her sandals on, grasping her elbow and carefully tugging her to her feet. He continued to keep his hand on her elbow as he led her towards the villa.

"The garden is looking lovely. In particular the Butterfly Jasmine and Anthuriums are flourishing," He commented as they walked. "Sophia has prepared some freshly brewed iced tea. I believe she has flavored it with fresh peaches and I'm certain I smelled something baking in the oven." He continued on with his trivial comments, not expecting a reply from the young woman who walked beside him. He could see the dazed expression on her face. Was familiar with how she would retreat when she was struggling with her thoughts. Knew from his employers angry stance before he departed what the cause of her distress was. She really was a thorn in his side, disrupting his nice, orderly schedule, but she was his thorn.

He situated her in one of rattan chairs on the terrace returning a few minutes later with a tall chilled glass of tea. He held it to her lips and she instinctively drank from it. The last thing he needed was for her to become dehydrated on his watch. He placed the glass on the table along with several fresh bake muffins.

She lost all track of time as she sat on the terrace, searching her mind for clues that should have warned her that their relationship was not at all as it seemed. She stirred from her thoughts. "Grey." she said, not looking at the man who still stood military "at ease" a few feet behind her.

"Yes?"

"I think I'm in over my head." She finally stated.

He had no doubt at all that she was indeed over her head. Raymond Reddington played to win, no matter how long it took or what the final price to be paid was. The woman near him didn't stand a chance. "I wouldn't concern myself about it, I'm sure everything will work out just fine." It was the best he could muster.

xxxxx

A storm rolled in the distance, the occasional shots of lightening casting a faint flash in the room, the cracking of thunder echoing against the walls. The ocean breeze coming through the open french door a cool welcome relief. She stretched her legs, curling her toes and kicking off the bed linens, her nightgown bunching and twisting around her waist. She relished the sensation of the cool sheets against her bare skin as the air brushed against her thighs and she stirred, her sleep restless.

She caught the faint aroma of his cologne as he bent over her, even in sleep, she had been waiting for him to come to her. Knew he would visit her in the darkness, a faint smile curled her lips. "Red" she murmured. He bent over her, his kiss just brushing the nape of her neck. Her nipples became hard as he rumbled softly with pleasure at her response to him and she felt the rush of desire pulse through her body. Her skin became overly sensitive as his breath stroked her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, goose bumps following him as he moved towards the heat that was building in her. She needed to feel the heavy weight of him on top of her, his legs entwined with hers, his knee pressing against her center, urging her to open for him. She moaned again, louder this time, back arching, seeking to bring him closer.

Her eyes suddenly flew open as she gasped for air and sat up in bed. Her eyes wild as she searched the dark corners of the room for the object of her dream.

She was alone!

She exhaled deeply with disbelief and laid back down, her head sinking into the pillows, tears starting to fill her eyes as disappointment flooded her. It had been so real! Had felt so natural. Slowly she tried to catch her breath, heart still racing. She exhaled again. It had only been a dream. She became aware of the pulsating arousement of her body, the unfulfilled desire that was a remnant of her sleep. All she had to do was move her hand down her stomach, to the moistness between her legs and she would shatter into a climax. One touch was all it would take to send her spinning over the edge. Instead, she clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms until the hot flush of desire began to ebb and fade.

Had it been a dream or was this the reality? Had they been lovers before? Was this a memory from her past, slipping in when she was most vulnerable? Her eyes widened at the possibility as she tried to remember. She sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes against another shiver of desire, even now she could still smell the scent of him...,her eyes opened...could still smell the scent of him...

Her feet suddenly propelled her from the bedroom and she ran down the long hallway towards Raymonds rooms. She stopped, paused outside of his doorway, gathering courage before slowly pushing the door open. She half expected him to be inside even though she knew he wouldn't have returned yet. With a deep breath she stepped in.

Her heart was pounding as she slowly moved through each room. Only the desperate need for confirmation of what she suspected was the only thing that kept her from turning and running.

Her eyes searched the contents of his dressing room, his clothing neatly hanging, the row of fedoras that was a constant adornment when he stepped outside, none of this was what she was searching for. She stepped towards the cherry cabinets and cautiously opened the doors, her eyes taking in the contents. She noticed the picture of the two of them, holding the framed picture in her hands, she stared at it. Washington D.C., the Potomac river she was certain, just as she was certain she couldn't remember the day or time or even the year of the picture. She returned it to its resting place. Her eyes fixating on her goal, the six small crystal decanters, the expensive cut glass twinkling as it refracted in the dim light.

One by one she worked her way though the bottles. Each scent unique, sensual, beautiful, She recognized several of the colognes that Raymond wore, but none were what she was searching for. Until she reached the last decanter. As soon as she removed its stopper she could smell the aroma gently wafting out. Her eyes closed as she lifted it to her face and inhaled. Yes. This was what she had been searching for, the scent in her dream. This was the essence of Red, this was what she remembered. Pine and citrus and exotic spices she couldn't identify. Again she inhaled it and her body quivered in response.

She moistened her fingertips and stroked the cologne onto her skin. Her lobe, her throat, her breasts which ached from her unfulfilled arousal. Flashes from her past appeared behind her closed lids. The golden room she could see it clearly now. The light shimmering in from the windows, bathing him with its glow as he faced its warmth. She heard the notes of a song, felt his kiss, saw the depth of his need for her...desperately she tried to absorb their meanings. It was like trying to guess the final picture of puzzle with only a handful of pieces.

She left the room as silently as she entered it. Her throat constricting, becoming thick and tight as the panic started to grow. She needed air, needed to clear her head. The anxiety increased, wrapping around her, threatening to smother her. She ran down the hallway, flying down the staircase.

xxxxxx

Spoiler Alert - Just want to let everyone know that she DOES NOT fall down the staircase! Hope you enjoyed it!


	8. Chapter 8

Hi Everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and followings. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, it will probably be the next to last as my daydream is winding to a close!

Chapter 8

She didn't know how far she ran, just that the few lights that were on at the villa were no longer able to be seen. Her eyes were wild, chest heaving from the exertion, she stopped and tried to rein in her emotions. The anxiety that had gripped her was starting to fade and she desperately needed to find a safe anchor to hold on to. Raymond...Red, who was he? Why couldn't she just remember? She knew their relationship far exceeded that of guardian or family friend. They had a history, a past that she struggled to remember the pieces of, but simply couldn't. Each time she searched for answers the anxiety would build until it felt as though she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

Liz suddenly realized that she had gone past the gardens and into the woods. In the darkness, she tried to find her bearings. She had walked in these woods many times, she knew the way back to the villa if she could just focus and concentrate. She jumped as a bolt of lightening flashed, the storm moving closer. The island wasn't that large, it's not as if she would be lost for long, she convinced herself. Anger and annoyance at her foolish behavior flared, she was so tired of feeling like an idiot, it was even worse that she had acted like one. The lightening flashed again along with the the cracking of a tree limb as the bolt of energy found it's mark and she jumped in reflex, nerves already raw. Determined she trudged in the direction she thought the villa was in, ignoring the pain in her feet as she tramped on broken twigs and stones.

Wrong! She had to be going in the wrong direction as the trees stood closer together instead of thinning. Tears of frustration started to spill down her cheeks, blurring her vision. This was such a stupid ass thing for her to have done and Raymond would be so upset if he ever found out. She could actually picture his expression, patient and kind, eyes worried. Hear him saying "Really Lizzie, you could have been seriously hurt and then what would we have done?" in that voice that made her feel like she was the only person in the world that mattered. He would be so disappointed in her if he could see her now.

Another boom of thunder echoed, followed by a crack of lightening that hung in the sky, pulsating like a strobe light, illuminating a naked man standing in the woods ahead. Her blood ran cold and suddenly she was in another forest, running for her life, branches scrapping at her arms, as the man chased her. If he found her he would hurt her again, do terrible things to her! She tripped and fell, her entire body convulsing with fear. Hide, she had to try and hide from the monster who was going to kill her, that was going to drop her in his vile stew of acids. When the dog jumped up on her chest, knocking her to the flat of her back she screamed in unholy terror.

xxxx

Jacob wasn't certain what awakened him first. The beeping of the alarm system or the sound of the dog barking in the distance. He was already pulling on his jeans when the phone rang.

"She's missing." Greys voice short, panicked on the other end.

"What the hell do you mean, she's missing?" Jacob replied, shoving his bare feet into boots and grabbing his gun.

"Just what I said, get up here now!" The line going dead.

It took Jacob four minutes running to make the ten minute walk to the villa. He found Grey in the secure room hidden in the basement of the villa, the computer network loading on the monitor. "How long has she been gone?"

"The alarm was triggered on the north-east side twenty minute ago. When I went to check on her, I found her room empty and the terrace doors open." Grey explained, quickly punching commands on the keyboard.

"Have you activated it yet?" Neither man voicing their worse fears, that she had been kidnapped.

"What do you think I'm doing now?" Annoyance sharpening Grey's voice.

"Does Reddington know?" Jacob selected another handgun from the arsenal that was kept in the room.

"No, I'll contact him as soon as this is finished." Staring at the screen, waiting for the final boot up.

"Wait until we know something." Jacob ordered. A thin green outline of the island appeared on the screen and Grey continued to type frantically. "It's activated." A few more tense seconds passed until finally a small red dot started to blink on the screen.

"There she is, she's still on the island." Grey read the GPS coordinates off and synced a small device that would allow them to track her as both men grabbed rifles and rushed out into the pending storm.

They found her laying unconscious on the ground, dirty, her nightgown torn, feet bare, The barking of the dog leading them to her quicker than the tracking chip that had been embedded in her neck when she had been comatose.

"Good boy, Hudson. Stay." Jacob commanded the dog before knelling down, trying to assess her injuries. His hand felt cautiously behind her head, relief flooding him when he realized the ground under her was soft, no hidden rocks to damage her skull. Scooping her up in his arms, he nodded to Grey. "Let's get her back to the villa before the rain hits."

She didn't stir until they reached her bedroom and then she came awake, thrashing wildly, her eyes not recognizing where she was. She was certain she was going to be killed, fighting for her life. She didn't calm until Sophia came running into the room. The woman arms wrapped around her, her words of comfort eventually soothing her. Both men beat a hasty retreat, remaining outside her room until the housekeeper finally appeared at the door, their gaze fixating on her.

"A migraine started and I gave her the medication for it." She explained, giving both men a worried look.

"Does she appear to be injured?" Grey asked.

"Scraps and scratches, nothing serious, but the poor girl was terrified. She kept saying someone was trying to kill her. She's sleeping now."

The two men entered her bedroom, more to actually confirm to themselves that she was where she should be and how differently the entire event could have turned out. Leaving her under Sophia's watchful eyes, they left the room to call their employer.

xxxx

Red was deep in thought analyzing Lizzies behavior. Toying with different possible scenarios of what her coming into his rooms could have meant, when Dembe handed him the phone. The only change in his expression was the closing of his eyes as Jacob informed him of the events that had occurred.

It was beginning, he knew with a certainty that was unshakable. Between her earlier behavior and now this, it would appear that her sub-conscious was triggering something beyond her control. He needed to prepare himself for what was coming.

The dread settled in the pit of his stomach like quicksand as he questioned every decision he had ever made about her. Before the attempt on her life, she had known that he was a criminal, a liar, a murderer and even knowing those things she had accepted him. He recalled their last night together in Frederick's home. She hadn't turned away from him with fear or disgust, but had returned his kiss with a passion that had equaled his own. Offering him for the first time in so many long years, a glimpse of the peace he knew he could find with her.

He should be welcoming the return of her memory, of her becoming whole again. He played with the idea of why he resisted it. Her remembering would at least place him in the same position he had been in before she had been hurt. It should have pleased him, but it didn't. It was because of the ultimatum he had given her that night. That they could either go away together or she could stay and discover her past. He should have just told her the truth that night. Been honest with her and trust that whatever her decision was, she made it with the full knowledge and understanding of just how ruthless he was. It wasn't the life time of memories that Lizzie had forgotten that frightened him, it were those few forgotten memories that a little girl once had a long time ago. The thought of her recalling those memories are what haunted him.

There were no plans that he could make, no puppet strings to pull. He could neither pursue or retreat. He would simply have to wait and see what fate decided, because the only thing he was positive of was that when, and it was when, not if, her memories returned, he would have to tell her of what he had done to her as a child.

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"Where is she?" Red handed Grey his fedora and suit coat.

"In the library Sir "

"How does she seem?"

"Well enough, perhaps a bit subdued."

With a sigh of resignation Red accepted the scotch Grey handed him. He couldn't help but wonder how Lizzie would greet him after the incident in the garden.

She stood leaning against one of the long windows that lined the wall, the view stretching out to the ocean. She had a faraway look on her face and his eyes softened. She looked beautiful, tight black leggings of some sort, ending at her calves and an over sized vee-neck sweater in rose pink. Her hair was pulled to one side, trailing over her shoulder, braided with ribbons. The picture shouldn't fill him with such ominous dread, but it did. He was nervous, very nervous.

"Hello Lizzie, I'm sorry I couldn't make it back in time to join you for dinner."

She glanced away from the window and looked at him with a slow smile. "I wasn't expecting you back quite so soon."

"I'm not able to stay long, my business isn't quite concluded but I was concerned about you." Red explained, not telling her that he had needed to assure himself that after last night, she was still alive and safe.

She was his addiction. His one weakness in the entire world and the craving for her would claw at him until the day he died. Like a junkie, he would never be able to stop wanting her. Needing her. It was pathetic really, he thought disparagingly. Yes, he had returned early because he had needed his fix.

"I assume Grey told you about last night?" Her eyes shifting back to window and beyond.

"He said you had a disruptive night." Red understated, noting the paleness of her skin, the faint circles under her eyes.

She shrugged, continuing to look out the window, watching the stars that were growing brighter as the night became darker. She was amazed at how many stars there were in the sky and wondered if the same amount littered the sky from wherever it was she had come from.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Red pressed.

"It's all somewhat embarrassing." She thought about the erotic dream she had of the two and she closed her eyes, feeling her skin grow hot and her body tense with desire.

He exhaled deeply, unbuttoned his vest and rolled his shirt sleeves up. Settling into a Queen Ann chair, he sipped at his scotch and waited patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded.

"I'm sure it was nothing more than dreams gone astray. After all, I'm like the crazy relative that people keep locked up in the attic." She pressed her forehead against the coolness of glass.

"That's a terrible thing to say Lizzie and certainly not so. I would never want you to feel that way." He was taken aback by the bitterness in her voice.

Liz recognized her words had hurt him, she hadn't meant to cause him pain, this man that had done so much for her. "I'm sorry, I certainly didn't mean that as a reflection of your thoughts for me. Perhaps I'm just feeling frustrated."

Well, he could certainly relate to her feeling of frustration, he thought ironically.

She moved from her position at the window and walked to the stereo, flipping through the stack of CD's. Alice Williams voice came on, a favorite jazz singer of his, singing "Citizen". He unease continued to grow as she began a slow walk around the room, her fingers brushing against the desk, the wall. Every so often she sang a few words of the song, the music earthy and sexy.

"What are you feeling frustrated about Lizzie?" He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't answer and he wasn't surprised, she appeared to be in deep reflection, her lips pursed and a slight frown on her forehead. She continued to slowly pace around the room, he could almost see her cataloging her thoughts, putting them in order and planning her next words.

A panther stalking her prey. The image occurred out of the blue and he understood that for the first time, it was he that was the prey. Red didn't have a good feeling about this.

"How about a game of chess?" he suggested, still no response as she continued to circle the room. She pulled an orchid from the arrangement of flowers that sat on the desk, her fingers plucking the petals and dropping them to the floor. His nerves grew taunt and the muscles in the back of his neck tightened. This was more than Lizzie just taking her time to form her thoughts. She had a stubborn look on her face that he hadn't seen since before she had been injured.

"I need to ask you something." She finally said, still pacing a circle around the room, not looking at him.

"Certainly." Voice even, no hint of the warning alarm bells that were going off in his head. " But it's a beautiful night, why don't we go for a walk in the garden and you can ask me out there?"

Perhaps she would take the bait and he could distract her away from whatever question that was on her mind. Because whatever the question was, he suddenly realized that he wanted it to remain unasked. If she didn't ask then he wouldn't need to lie, or mislead or simply flat out refuse to answer her.

She continued circling the room slowly, one song leading into the next, closing the distance that separated them. "No...no, not tonight.'

She was behind him now, he felt her place her hand on his shoulder as she continued to walk around to his opposite side. Then she leaned over him, her sweater, that seemed so demure just a short time ago was a mirage as the fabric gaped open and he had a clear view of her breasts.

"Red..." her voice a husky purr, his worse fears being confirmed just by the one word. While it didn't appear that she had regained her memory, it was confirmation that parts of their past was coming back to her, even if it was subconsciously. He doubted she even realized that she had called him by his nickname. Since the accident he had been either Ray or Raymond, never Red.

She leaned into him closer until her lips were only inches away from his ear. "Tell me, were we...intimate?" she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, her hand trailing across his shoulder and moving away as she began circling the room again.

He couldn't have been more taken aback, "Really Lizzie" he puffed, "That question is very... inappropriate." He replied in his coldest tone. Criminals of the highest and lowest sort, politicians, powerful men, all had backed down when he used that same tone of voice. She never flinched.

Passing the vase of flowers again she removed another orchid from the arrangement, as she thought about his response, analyzed the meaning. It struck her as strange that he hadn't answered her and she played with that knowledge as she circled the room again.

Yes or No? It really wasn't that difficult. Think it through Lizze, she chided herself. Red's voice echoed in her mind. "you must be able to predict your opponents move and act to deflect them".

"You didn't answer my question Raymond." She tried again.

"No, I didn't and I'm not going to." He replied in his best "drop the subject" command. He had been in a constant state of low arousal since the incident in the garden and then watching her on the video last night. And now, actually being with her, with this topic on the table, the desire was flushing over him. He really wanted nothing more than to stop this conversation, pull her into his arms and kiss her questions away. He wanted to promise her that everything was just as it should be, that nothing would change, ever.

Lizzie continued her pacing. Why didn't he just answer the question? If the answer was No, then why hesitate? Just say No and it was done with. End of subject. So if the answer wasn't No, the simplest of answers, then it must be Yes, they had been intimate. She felt a quick rush of relief. proud of her self deduction. She smiled at him and stopped pacing. "The fact that you won't answer me tells me we have been."

"Never assume anything, Lizzie. And what, pray tell, has motivated you to ask this question?" He wished he had brought the entire bottle of scotch in with him. as he drained his glass.

She circled around to him again and leaned into him. "I dreamed we were together last night and I couldn't tell if it was memory of our past or if it was just a dream."

A shiver of desire rushed through him from her words. Her hand caressing his neck, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt collar. "The answer is not as simple as you would like it to be, Our relationship was... complicated. We were at a cross road."

She frowned, this she hadn't expected. "But we have been intimate?" She wanted, no needed to know that the answer was Yes. That these memories, even though they both frightened and thrilled her, were true.

He expelled the breath he had been holding, at a loss for words. How could his relationship with this woman be described as anything other than intimate? But it also implied a level of sexual knowledge that wasn't so.

"Tell me Lizzie, what do you think? Have we been intimate?" Red finally replied, leaning his head further into the the hand she had placed above his neck. Relishing in the touch of her fingers brushing against the stubble of his hair. Sometimes, the best defense was a good offence.

She moved away from the back of the chair, her senses heightened, coming around the char and stopping to face him. "I think your avoiding my question. If I knew the answer then I wouldn't have had to ask, now would I?"

Boldly she leaned over him and brushed a kiss on his cheekbone, fascinated as the muscle under his eye twitched. The same twitch she had seen when she had caught him staring at her in the garden.

Feeling empowered and pleased with herself for being clever enough to understand at least a part of her past she rested a hand on his shoulder. Without breaking eye contact with him she placed her other hand on his upper thigh. His pupils dilated as she deliberately brushed her fingertips against the hard length of his arousal, Satisfaction shot through her as he hissed and closed his eyes.

"Do not start something that is not going to get finished, Lizzie." He growled, clamping his hand around her wrist and pulling it away. Red stood and watched as she smiled a rather smug smile at him before continuing her pacing.

"You told me I almost died, was that true?" Abruptly changing the subject.

"Yes" The word choked out of him as he tired to gather his thoughts and control his bodies reaction to her touch.

"You said it was a car accident?"

"Yes." Another half truth, there had been no accident about it.

She returned to the window, facing away from him again. "Do you know why I would dream of a man chasing me, torturing me, trying to kill me?" Her voice turned fearful, childlike and small.

He wouldn't lie to her about this. "Yes I do know why. I"m sorry you remembered that Lizzie, is that what happened last night?"

She lifted her shoulders and leaned even closer to window, as though she could step through it and enter a different world.

"You have no reason to ever be afraid of that man, he's dead."

Her eyes met his and she saw the truth of what he said. Saw the coldness, the anger that was barely suppressed and remembered again of just how dangerous she somehow knew he was. She didn't press for more and for that he was grateful.

He couldn't help himself, he just needed to hold her for a moment, just long enough for the fear in her eyes to go away, to push Cornish out of the room. He went to her, sighing, knowing in the light of day he would regret his action. Lizzie wrapped her arms around his back, brushing her check against his chest. Red lost track of time as they simply stood together and he pressed small, feather kisses on her the top of her head while she stroked her fingers up and down his spine.

"Raymond?"

"Yes, my Dear."

"I'm not going to live my life like this, in limbo, not able to have a future because I can't remember my past. You either want me, or you don't." She pulled away from him and looked him squarely in his eyes. "So I guess what I'm saying is that you have a decision to make." Repeating the words that he had spoken to her in another life time.


	9. Chapter 9

Writing this story has been such an amazing adventure. I was slow to finish this last chapter because I simply didn't want the story to end. I hope everyone is happy with it. There is a bit of an epilogue slowly spinning around in my head. Let me know if you think it needs one! Thank you to all who took the time to leave a review. Your comments are what motivated me to finish writing my little daydream, they reassured me that I wasn't just jotting down mindless dribble...

Chapter 9

"My decision was made long ago, Lizzie. I have wanted you for what seems like a life time. It's you that must make a choice." Red gently told her. "And as much as it pains me, it's a choice I can't permit you to make until you know all the facts of your past. I can't in good conscious allow anything else." His eyes sad as he looked at the only thing in his life that mattered.

"It amazes me how you continually make these decisions for me." She argued. "I can't imagine anything that I could remember that would change the way I feel about you." What could be so horrible that she would turn her back on him? This man that had done everything for her, taken care of her, protected her. She couldn't imagine a life without him.

"I never want you to remember your past and regret the choice you made. Let me be selfish for a moment - what would I do if you decided that you had made a mistake and couldn't live with me any longer? Just thinking about it is unbearable. To have my one dream come true, only to have it taken from me?" His voice low and rough, the words torn from him.

She could see the vulnerability in his eyes and hear the resignation in his voice. "So we continue to wait?"

She teetered between anger and acceptance, recognizing how important this was to him. She knew she would be unable to sway him from his decision. "You could tell me everything." She coaxed with a smile, knowing it was futile.

He didn't return her smile, his face somber. "Some things I could tell you. But what ever I say, it would be weighed differently by you." Perhaps it was the idea that despite all of his faults, he needed her to see him both as the man he was and the man he wanted to be. A man that could still make a decision that was honorable and based on what was best for another person and not himself.

A knock on the library door interrupted them and Red stepped away from her. "Yes?"

Jacob opened the door and nodded once at Red, before closing the door again.

Turning back to her, he placed both hands on her shoulders. "I have to leave for a short while Lizzie. The timing is not the best, but this trip home was unplanned." He knew she was disappointed and frustrated with him. His fingers stroked the side of her face and he leaned towards her, his lips a fraction away from hers. "Know this much Lizzie, no matter what happens, I love you more than anything in this world." He brushed away the tear that trailed down her cheek and kissed her gently.

A better man would have stayed with her, never would have left at this point in their relationship or her recovery. But he wasn't a better man or a nobler man. He was a man that had a score to settle. The issue of Tom Keen had hung on far to long.

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Tom Keen could feel the rush of excitement starting to build and he smiled with pleasure. It happened each time he took a contract. There was no other feeling in the world quite like it. It was better than sex, drugs or alcohol. It was the challenge of the chase, the thrill of the hunt, knowing that in the end, he would watch a persons life drain away at his hand.

He reached the meeting point and wondered again who his next mark might be. His contact would provide him with the cash and the details of the hit. God, it felt good to be back in business.

A large, menacing looking, black man waited outside the doorway of the abandoned warehouse. He indicated with a nod that he should raise his arms. Tom waited patiently for the frisking to end, it was a part of doing business. He was the one being hired, he would be the one to follow the rules, at least until the contract was finalized. He smiled charmingly, brown eyes looking guileless as the man motioned him to enter the warehouse.

Red waited patiently inside the cavernous building. It was dark and dank, the skylights high above dirty with years of accumulated grit and grime. Catwalks hung broken, occasionally clanging eerily as a stray breeze through a broken window jousted the metal.

It had taken months to lure Keen out of the hole he had been hiding in, but finally enough time had past since Washington, his money growing short, caution lessening, until the other man was confident enough to begin working again. Political assassinations took time and money to plan. Logistics to manipulate, organizations to infiltrate. Tom Keen had built a reputation for being thorough and if he enjoyed being somewhat sadistic in the way he ended someones life, well the people that hired him really didn't care. Dead was dead.

Red's eyes narrowed as he watched the younger man walk confidently towards him. The warehouse was filled with shadows and he waited until Toms eyes adjusted and his expression changed to one of alarm when he recognized him.

"You! Your my contact? I should have know it was a setup." He spat.

"Keen, how wonderful you could join me today." Red acknowledged the other mans statement with a thin smile. "Don't you remember? I told you I would always be there to watch over her."

"That bomb was never meant for Lizzie." Tom quickly tried to defend himself.

"I know that. You know that. But it really doesn't make a difference. She was hurt because of your actions. As a result of your last hit and his employer's unhappiness with you. Your research never disclosed their rather... unconventional relationship. An unfortunate oversight on your part." He chided the man.

"Where is she? I've tried to find out, but it's been impossible. Between you and the FBI, I'm sure she is hidden so well that not even God could find her."

"Alive is what she is and where she is - is of no concern to you." Red told him arrogantly.

Tom looked at him with hatred, "Who is she to you?"

Red paused for a moment before finally answering, "Oh...Lizzie's very special to me. I've known her for years Tom. I've always been... close to her." His tone suggestive, his smile sly, smirking as he watched the other man place his own interpretation on the comment, taking pleasure in watching the way his face reddened with anger.

"What makes you think you have any more right to her than I do? There's no difference between the two of us, Reddington." Tom shot back.

Red arched an eyebrow, "Really?" He drawled.

"Last time I heard you were still a criminal, still killing people, still thinking the world danced to your tune. When your done with her, what then, what will happen to her?"

"The difference between us Tom is that Lizzie knew what I was from the beginning. Her life with you was nothing more than a fairy tale." Red shot back, angered by the thread of truth in his words.

"Your wrong. I loved her from the first moment I met her. I changed my life because of her." His body tensing as he looked at Red, only one of them would walk out alive and he was bound and determined that it would be him.

"You changed your life for her? You're a liar Tom, you changed nothing in your life. You still accepted contracts, you still continued your relationship with Gina." Red sneered, amazed at the mans audacity.

"Gina? A mere distraction. I like certain things that Lizzie was perhaps... to innocent to provide. Gina took up the slack in that area." Tom dismissed his comment with a shrug.

His nonchalant attitude over his infidelities infuriated Red. "You betrayed your wife and I warned you." His tone short and furious.

A chill ran down Tom's spine as he became enraged, shouting with fury. "Everything I did, everything I tried to become, I did so she would love me! And she did love me, until you came into the picture. Do you really think I enjoyed being a fourth grade teacher?" His voice derisive. "Do you really think I had any desire to have child? To share her with anyone, especially a squalling, screaming brat that wasn't even going to be mine?" His voice rose higher along with his anger. "Those were things she wanted. The security, the family. The only thing I wanted was her and I was willing to do whatever I had to in order to make her happy."

"Even if it meant her dying because of your continued profession?" Maybe Lizzie would never forgive him for his past sins, but Red was confident that the decision he had made regarding the man before him was the right one.

Keep your hands clean, Jacobs words came back to remind him. He was fully conscious that he would not repeat the mistakes that Tom Keen had made. There would be no possible chance of a future with Lizzie if he continued with the career his life had taken him on.

Tom thought of Lizzie, her laugh, the way she would moan when he was deep inside of her. How soft her lips had been. Rage filled him as he lunged for Red, even unarmed he could still choke the life out of him, he thought as he charged at him like the madman he was.

Red pulled his gun but before he could fire, the momentum of Toms attack had both men on the floor as gunshots echoed in the warehouse. Tom laid motionless on top of him and Red realized that he was either unconscious or dead, pushing his body off of him. When he looked up, Meera Malik was walking towards him, Ressler close behind, guns pointed directly at him.

xxxxx

News of the demise of the infamous Raymond "Red" Reddington traveled quickly through the underworld of international crime. FBI and CIA feeds had confirmed his death, Old Red had finally met his match and died in a hell of gunfire. Details were varied, some heard it was over a woman, others said he had double crossed the wrong person.

Friends and acquaintances that had worked with him, remembered him for his wit, his charm and of course his sense of style. Others who had not fared as gently with him, toasted his death with a smile and a shot. All remembered him for his cunning and ruthlessness. And if over the years it was occasionally whispered that the "Concierge of Crime" had been sighted in Marrakesh or Istanbul or Berlin they were dismissed as nothing more than stories of a legend that refused to die.

xxxxx

As soon as he reached the terrace, he could hear her playing the piano, the notes flowing from the ballroom. He should have realized the music would be the trigger to restore her memories, "it's personal", she had admitted to him so long ago. His face curved into a melancholy smile as he settled into a rattan chair and listened to her play.

The classics thundered and roared under her touch, ballads whispered and cried, melodies he wasn't familiar with but knew with certainty they were written by her hand, tightened his throat. He didn't know how long she had been playing before he arrived home, but time floated as the music continued deep into the night. When she started to play "Hallelujah" he knew there would be no more songs that night and he was left with only the silence of night.

He couldn't help but wonder if this would be the way he would spend the rest of his life, sitting alone, dreaming of what could have been. He went in search of her, knowing it was time.

Liz looked at fingers that were still trembling, she felt raw as if her skin had been shredded, every nerve exposed and vibrating, but she also felt whole again. She had reclaimed her life, the gaping void that had mocked her all these months gone. The fear that she had never been able to admit to Red, that perhaps her sanity was slipping away because she was unable to reconcile her present with her past. Red knew everything though, she thought, he probably realized that about her also.

She stripped her shirt and slacks off, leaving them in a heap on the floor of his dressing room and slipped on his robe, tying it closed, drawing what comfort she could in knowing that her skin was touching something that he had worn. She needed to be close to him and for now, his robe, his room was as close as it could be.

Padding into the bathroom, she leaned over the sink and splashed warm water on her face, washing off the salt that her tears had left. She turned off the faucet and pressed a towel to her face, blotting off the water. When she glanced up, she saw his reflection in the mirror. His face guarded, eyes hooded.

"Lizzie." Gravel and warm whiskey, a shiver trailed through her body and some of the tension vanished. He had returned and suddenly she wasn't alone anymore.

She walked straight towards him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Hesitantly he returned her embrace and he smelled the jasmine and honey scent of her hair. He broke apart, stepping away from her.

"What do you remember?" The question resigned, his face tired, pinched.

"Enough." She met his eyes and nodded slowly. "I remember meeting you. I remember the Blacklist, the work we did." She smiled sadly, "I remember Sam... Tom." Her blue eyes still rimmed in red from her tears. "What happened to me that day, Red?"

"It was car bomb, meant for Tom." He watched her closely as she absorbed his words.

"Is he dead?" She asking the question more out of curiosity than caring.

"Yes" He didn't elaborate.

"Did you kill him?" She hoped he hadn't, Red already carried the weight of so many lost lives. He certainly didn't need to carry the weight of her foolish mistakes. If only she had trusted him from the beginning, all of this could have avoided.

"Not by my hand, but dead all the same." Later, if there was a later, he would tell her of what happened. Of how he had tried to have Tom captured alive, of the arrangement he had made with the FBI.

"Lizzie, I need to tell you of the events that occurred before you went to live with Sam."

"I told you Red, I remember meeting you.' Her voice was even, blue eyes filled with pain and something more.

Her remark caught him off guard. He had thought her comment meant she remembered him after he had turned himself in. When he had been in the box. He hadn't realized she had meant when she was a child.

"Tell me." The words growled out, his body breaking out in a cold sweat, the sick feeling of dread building in his gut.

"I was six. I remember a mother who was...abusive. A father that was seldom there and when he was, was just as cruel. That day he showed up, excited, telling my mother that their ship had come in. They would be rich. She went berserk and there was a terrible fight, I hide outside, it was safer for me to not be seen when they were fighting. It started to get cold, so I crawled into the back of my fathers car. I must have fallen asleep because I awakened to the tires squealing and the car lurching wildly as it went around corners." She took a deep breathe and started to pace the room, much like she had earlier in the library.

"I must have started crying because my father realized I was in the car and started swearing at me. The next thing I knew the car crashed and rolled several times, landing on its top. I don't know if I was trapped or if I was just to terrified to move. I kept crying for my father, watching as he pulled himself out of the car window." Her eyes were far away, her shoulder hunched in pain.

She stopped her pacing and turned to look at him, her voice soft, breathless. "Red - He crouched down on the ground and looked at me...and then he left." She whispered in disbelief. "He just left me in the car. I could see the fire, smell the smoke. Why would he do that to me?" She asked like the lost child she had once been. The tears were streaming down her face as she shook her head at the memory.

"Then I heard glass shattering and someone pulling me out of the car." She glanced at him, "Your voice, how could I have ever forgotten the sound of your voice? Calm, gentle like sunlight after a storm. You wrapped your arms around me, you held me so tightly and told me I was safe. That everything would be all right." She looked down at the scar on her hand. "That's how I got this, from the hot, burning, wreckage that my father left me to die in and you saved me from."

He wanted the story to end there, to erase the pain and betrayal she had to be feeling. To hold her in his arms and chase away the horrible nightmare that had been her life. He willed himself to remain where he was, not reach out to her.

"There's more to the story Lizzie. Your father and the organization he was a part of were stealing and selling military secrets. I was chasing him that night. Part of a covert team in charge of capturing the group. Lizzie I swear to you, had I known you were in the car I never would have pursued him. I never would have tried to kill him."

Red ran his hands over the top of his head, his voice agonized. "When I heard your screams, saw him look at you and then run, I just snapped. It was the first time in my life that I wanted to kill someone in cold blood. That any man could do that to a child, any child, but especially his own child, was unimaginable. I opened fire on him and he went down, I never looked to see if he was dead or not. I just knew I needed to get you out of that car."

Lizzie reached out to touch his arm and he pulled away from her. "So instead of trying to find any extended family or turning you over to Children Services, I kept you, I kidnapped you." His eyes bleak as he admitted what he had done. "From my research I already knew about your trips to the hospital, the broken bones, the even darker suspicions of abuse Children Services had, but couldn't quite prove. So in my arrogance and my anger, I determined your future. I took you to Sam's and he agreed to raise you, to care for you as if you were his own. I never wanted to take the chance that your father or your mother would ever find you." He felt a coldness settle over him, knowing that he would never be warm again.

"It wasn't until several years later and I was married with my own daughter, that I discovered your father hadn't died that night. The calling card he left me was killing the two people I loved most in the world. He was't the one that actually pulled the trigger, but he had been the one to give the order. Your father had become powerful in his own right. I didn't rest until I found the men that he had sent to kill my family and then I murdered them. After that, the government refused to help me, labeled me a renegade. So I left and that's when they changed the story that I abandoned my family. It read nicer to the Tribunal that charged and found me guilty of treason."

She closed her eyes against the on slot of pain. How horrible for him. How he could even bear to look at her, knowing that she had been the cause of him losing all that he held most dear. "Red, I am so sorry..."

"Sorry?" He cut her off. " You have nothing to be sorry for, you were an innocent victim in all of this. Just a child."

She fought to catch her breath, her head swimming, so may unanswered questions, answered.

"I spent the next ten years searching for him. Killing his associates, his advisers, his henchmen. He always knew I was trailing him, but I could never quite reach him."

"That's when I came into play, wasn't it?"

Red refused to meet her eyes. "In away, but not how you think. I had always watched over you from a distance. I needed to know that Sam kept you safe, that you were happy, lacking for nothing. But then I become captivated with you. Obsessed is the word I think Zamani used. I thought that if perhaps you were the one involved in your fathers capture, then perhaps you would understand what had motivated me. I told you, if anyone could give me a second chance, it was you."

"So the Blacklist was nothing more than a ploy to gain my help?"

"The Blacklist was very real, Lizzie. Don't for a moment think that it was put together just for the purpose of killing your father."

"And my father, where is he now?" She hated asking, but needed to know.

"Dead of natural causes a few weeks after your injury. Ironic isn't it?"

She exhaled, trying to absorb everything.

"Lizzie, I am so sorry for everything I've done to you." He didn't know what he would have done differently had he had the opportunity. He just knew that he had caused her great pain.

"Stop, Red! Just stop now. I don't want to hear anymore." She held her hand up.

He took a step towards her then paused. It was what he had expected. If he did nothing else, he needed to respect her decision. "I'm sorry." He didn't know what else he could say.

"Your sorry?" her voice rose with disbelief. "How can you even say that?"

"What is it you want from me, Lizzie? I swear I will do whatever you ask of me to try and make up to you for what I've done." His voice hoarse, the desperation clear on his face.

She stared at him, trying to grasp what he was saying. Comprehension finally dawning on her. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and walked towards him.

"Let me tell you what I want, Red" Blue eyes flashing with emotion. "I want to climb the highest mountain with you. I want to sail the seven seas. I want to grow grapes and make wine. I want to make love to you. But most of all, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. How can you not know that?" The love she felt for him shining clearly from her eyes.

When she reached him, he sunk to his knees, his hands gripping her waist and pulling her close to him. "I'm sorry Lizzie." He whispered against her.

"You saved me Red. Never doubt that for a minute. I am today, because of you. Because you cared enough to save me." Her hands pressed against the back of his head, holding him close. "I told you, that there was nothing I could imagine you doing that would change the way I felt about you."

Never in his wildest imaginings had he thought she would forgive him so easily, when he had never been able to forgive himself. At best, all he had hoped for was to be able to maintain some sort of contact with her through his own force of perseverance.

He pushed open the robe and placed his face against her belly. He needed time to just breathe her essence, to feel the smoothness of her skin against his face, to allow this moment that he thought would never happen, wash over him. He lost track of how long he rested against her. He on his knees, her hands on the back of his head, his face against her skin, "I will love you till the day I die and then beyond. You realize that don't you Lizzie?"

"I do", she smiled, stroking his head, felling the dampness of his tears against her flesh.

"You understand that you are everything to me. How much I need you and want you?" He began to place kisses on her belly between each word.

"Yes." She smiled a smile he couldn't see.

"Lizzie, I'm stubborn and arrogant and controlling and I know I am going to have the greatest difficulty in letting you out of my sight. Especially after coming so close to losing you." His fingers began to turn over the top edge of her black satin dance panties, far more enticing than any scrap of lace could be.

Her breathing became ragged as his mouth followed the downward trail of her panties. "It's good you recognize your faults, I won't have to point them out to you."

His insecurities made her feel strong. She understood what drove his obsession with her. Most people never suffered the type of loss he had. Red understood how fragile life was and how happiness and dreams could turn into despair and hell in just the blink of an eye.

His diligent fingers had turned her panties completely down and he slid them off her legs, his mouth following until he tasted her arousal. She clenched his head in reaction to his tongue probing her and a soft moan escaped from deep in her throat.

Her hands found his tie and she tugged sharply on it, until he pulled away and looked into her eyes, his eyes glazed with desire. "Red, I want you to be inside of me the first time I shatter into a million pieces." There would be time later to explore each others bodies, to play and nip and drive one another to the edge and beyond, but for now she needed to feel him deep inside of her. She pulled him towards her and he stood, their mouths meeting, teeth scraping as their kiss deepened.

Her hands slipped his tie off and then his vest. She unbuttoned his shirt as he pushed her robe off, their mouths locked in a hungry kiss. Belt unbuckled and fly unzipped she pushed his trousers off as he unhooked her bra. He brushed his face against her nipples, the stubble of his beard intensifying the sensation as he drew a nipple into his mouth and suckled it strongly, his teeth gently biting at her until she groaned with pleasure and her fingernails scored his back.

"Please Red, I need you. I want you so much." She begged, as she move backwards and fell onto the bed, pulling him down with her, his weight covering her.

His hands spread her thighs open and he tasted her center again, pushing her to the brink before he finally succumbed to her pleas and pulled his mouth away. He knelt above her and shuddered as she grasped the length of him and led him to her core. She was hot with moisture, slowly he pressed himself into her and then pulled back. Repeating the motion, each time entering her further and further until he felt her wetness coating him and her body accepting him fully. They found their rhythm immediately, her hips rising to meet him, her cries growing louder as their blending became harder and faster. She bent her knees and her hands gripped the top of his thighs, massaging his flesh as she pulling him even closer each time he thrust into her, matching his urgency with her own desperate need.

"Lizzie, Lizzie." he chanted her name. "Now, Sweetheart. Let go!" he urged as he felt her slip over the edge. The pulsating aftershock of her orgasm milking him as he climaxed and spilled deep inside of her.

xxxxxx

They talked and made love throughout the night. Sharing their dreams for the future, their fears, their secrets. Red told Lizzie how he had started a new business, one that would make a difference. The company specializing in rescuing victims of corporate and terrorist kidnappings. Surprising and pleasing her when he told her that Meera Malik would be joining the company. Jacob had been recruiting her for months, even before she had been injured, when Red had first realized that needed to be legitimate and put aside his life of crime. But Meera had refused to accept the job offer until the situation with Tom had been resolved.

Red confessed, somewhat nervously, to the tracking chip that was in her neck. Shocked when she threw back her head and laughed in delight then pulled him close for a deep kiss. "You are the most magnificent man ever." She told him breathlessly when they finally pulled apart. By then, he was certain she would be to sore hold him, so he trailed his mouth downwards until he reached her center, moist and hot, waiting for him and he set out to prove she was right.

They talked of children and she reluctantly admitted to him, that for now, she just wanted it to be the two of them, they both deserved and needed time to be together, all the problems of the past behind them. Red assured her that whenever or if ever, she was ready, he would do whatever was in his power to make it happen.

He confessed that his birthday was coming soon and he so wanted his gift from her to be an evening of dancing for him, especially to the song she had playing that day in the garden. Lizzie's eyes narrowed with desire, promising him that he wouldn't need to wait for his birthday for that to happen.

"I love you, Lizzie" His arms wrapped around her, dawn beginning to fill the room with soft sunlight. A new day, a fresh beginning "Thank you." He pressed a kiss onto her hair.

"I love you to Red." She rubbed her face against the hairs of his chest.

He rolled away from her and she immediately felt the loss, tugging him back towards her as he reached into the night table drawer. He captured her hand in his and slide a magnificent ring onto her finger. Lizzie gasped at enormous princess cut diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds, even the band was encrusted with diamonds,

"Really Red?" She held her hand up, the magnificent ring glittering. "You expect to bribe me with this bubble-gum machine bauble?" Her eyes teasing him as she reached over and found his lips with hers.

"You are going to marry me Lizzie."

Typical Red, not a question, instead a statement of fact. "Of course I am." She replied, curling back into his arms and admiring her future.

Red sighed with satisfaction, content in the warmth of the woman beside him.

xxxxxxxxxx


End file.
